LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



%p- - &W3t* ty 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 



A COMPREHENSIVE SYSTEM OP 



ELOCUTION AND ACTING 



Containing explicit instructions for the cultivation of the Speaking Voice 

and Gesture: Directions for the production of Breath, Sound 

and Speech: Rules for Articulation, Modulation, 

Emphasis and Delivery: Postures and 

movements of the Feet, Body, 

Arms, Head, Eyes, etc, 

Designed for the special use of Teachers, Actors, 
Students, Colleges, Schools, and all those who wish 
to perfect themselves in the noble art of Expression 

To which is added a Complete Speaker, consisting of Selections in 
Poetry and Prose suitable for Recitations 

/\y cP™ *&?" v\ 

[m II 

EDWIN GORDON LAWRENCE Z 
1 * 

TEACHER OF ELOCUTION AND DIRECTOR OF "THE LAWRENCE 
SCHOOL OF ACTING" OF NEW YORK 



1895 

PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 

NEW YORK 






Copyrighted 1895 by Edwin Gordon Lawrknck 



TYPOGRAPHY BY THE COMPOSITE PRESS OF NEW YORK CITY 



INTRODUCTION 



Correct speaking is an art and can only be acquired 
by laborious practice. To speak naturally is to use the 
organs of speech as nature intended, and not in the per- 
verted manner which ill usage has fastened upon us. 
The child breathes and speaks in a natural way, most 
grown persons in an artificial one; for instance: watch 
the infant as it lies in the cradle slumbering; notice 
with every rise and fall of the chest the inward and 
outward action of the waist muscles acting on the dia- 
phragm and causing it to pump the air in and force the 
breath out of the lungs. All the organs of breath are now 
performing their functions fully and none is worked at 
the expense of the others. How different with many 
men and women! They instead of inflating the lungs 
fully by the action of the abdominal muscles and dia- 
phragm, rely upon the costal, muscles only, and conse- 
quently inflate the upper portion of the lungs alone, 
thus being able to produce only a very limited amount 
of breath and scanty volume of voice. This will be fully 
dwelt upon in the exercises. 

As speaking is an art, we must learn the principles of 
it and gain the faculty of practically applying them. We 
all possess some degree of talent, but very few are gifted 
with genius. Possessing this faculty (talent) we are all 
able to learn how to use the human voice so as to ex- 
press every emotion of which it is capable, and great 
will be the result unless there is something radically 
wrong with the organ. Vocal sounds are but the paths 
leading outward from the speaker s soul, just as the eyes 
are the windows of his spiritual habitation, and if the 



4 INTRODUCTION 

powers of the voice are developed Ave are then enabled 
to express just what we feci — "To hold as 'twere, the 
mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, 
scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the 
time her form and pressure." 

In cultivating the voice we must pay particular atten- 
tion to detail, both as to the mechanical and intellectual 
part of the work, for it is only by attending to little 
things that we can expect to master the more difficult 
branches of the art. We must first furnish a good in- 
strument; but with most persons the voice is out of 
order and requires thorough overhauling. What is the 
cause of this noble instrument requiring readjusting? 
One little word will fully answer — misuse. And what will 
readjust this grand organ of sound ? Practice. Work, 
and hard work, is absolutely essential if vocal defects 
are to be corrected. We must remember that the voice 
cannot be built up in a day, but that months of care- 
ful training under a skillful master is the only means to 
adopt if good results are to be expected. We should 
experience no pain or trouble whatever when speaking, 
and every tone of the voice should be produced without 
apparent effort. Deep breathing requires an effort, but 
it must not be perceptible to the audience. A very 
vital point is to control the breath and not allow it 
to rush through the larynx without being converted into 
sound. This will be dwelt upon and explained among 
the exercises. 

In cultivating the voice we must first find out the 
medium register, and then work below and above it. 
How are we to do this ? By taking the ordinary speak- 
ing voice as a guide and gradually working the voice as 
far above and below this tone as possible. In a very 
little while the student will find that his medium regis- 
ter is changing. And why is this? Because in most 
instances the student has habitually (not naturally) 



INTRODUCTION 5 

pitched his voice either too high or too low, and the 
exercises are now bringing the different registers to 
their proper position. If he has been accustomed to 
speak in too low a tone this register has grown at the 
expense of the upper, and consequently the medium 
has been drawn down a considerable number of tones, 
but as he strengthens the upper register the compass 
will be extended and the medium will be raised corre- 
spondingly. If the upper has been constantly used this 
will prove to possess the strongest tones, and the lower 
register must suffer from the extra practice which the 
upper has received. Many teachers claim that such and 
such a tone on the scale represents the medium regis- 
ter. Now, I am bold to say that such is not the case, 
for what would be the medium for my voice might be 
above the medium for yours, and possibly below for an- 
other person s. Therefore the teacher should find the 
keynote in the student's voice and commence his work 
from that, and not endeavor to force his own voice 
upon the student. 

A quality lacking in most speaking voices is that of 
color, and a very important one it is. How few explain 
by the tones of the voice the meaning of the words 
uttered! When speaking of love, put love in the voice; 
express hate, when speaking of it; dwell on the word 
slow ; use rapid time in uttering the words fast, fire, 
flash, etc. You have as many colors at your disposal 
for word painting as the artist possesses to enable him 
to counterfeit nature, and you should use them. A 
table of words to practice on will be found among the 
exercises. 

There is a great quantity of dead wood clinging to 
Elocution, but in this simple system I shall aim to chop 
it all away, and make every one of my assertions per- 
fectly clear to the student. In many cases the seeker 
after elocutionary knowledge is only mystified and led 



6 INTRODUCTION 

astray by the amount of matter which is heaped before 
him in most of the so-called systems. In fact, Elocution 
is an art and can be imparted by the living teacher 
alone. It cannot be learned from books. They will 
serve as assistants and guides, but to rely on them 
alone would be madness. Elocution is both vocal and 
physical gymnastics, and I shall follow out that division 
in this work, taking up the vocal part first. 

The human family is expressly designed for action, 
both mental and physical, and is so constructed that to 
develope and continue the natural powers a certain 
amount of exercise is absolutely necessary. Every 
muscle in the body should be thoroughly trained and 
brought into subjugation to the will, so as to enable the 
speaker to perform any and every motion with as much 
ease and skill as he produces the different tones of the 
voice. 

Gesticulation is visible speech, and by proper manip- 
ulation may be made just as effective as voice itself. 
This being the case, imagine the power of an orator 
who thoroughly masters both branches of Elocution! 
He would be enabled to sway an audience at will, com- 
pelling his hearers to respond to his every expres- 
sion. It is a well known fact that impressions received 
through the eye are far more lasting than those made 
through the medium of any of the other senses, so con- 
sequently the speaker who can by appropriate gesticula- 
tion make his oration plain through the sight, will 
stamp his discourse upon the minds of his hearers and 
leave an impression not easily erased. 

I have read in the works of some, who are considered 
masters of their art, where students are advised to pay 
no attention whatever to the study of gesture. How 
then can these same teachers counsel vocal training? 
It seems to me that one is just as important to the orator 
or actor as the other. What do they advise the speaker 



INTRODUCTION J 

to do ? Rely upon the inspiration of the moment. How 
ridiculous such instruction must sound to one who has 
had practical experience as a public speaker. On the 
platform or stage I assert that nothing should be left to 
chance. Suppose you should rely upon inspiration, and 
it should fail to make its appearance. What would be 
the result ? The utter failure of your oration. Imagine 
yourself before a cold, unsympathetic audience. Where 
is the inspiration to come from ? You must call upon 
that other self, Art; dive into the recesses of your soul 
and make your audience respond to the passions you ex- 
press. To do this you must feel what you utter, and 
give utterance to that feeling. It is not sufficient that 
you should feel what you are saying but you must give 
outward expression to it. Here is where the art of Act- 
ing and Gesticulation comes into play. With proper 
gestures you can make all you say just as plain to the 
sight, as by the tones of the voice you can the sounds 
to the ear. You must individualize yourself with your 
subject if you wish to succeed as a speaker or actor, 
and explain not only by voice but also by gesture the 
author's meaning. Bring into use all the powers of 
Elocution: the voice, with its thrilling tones; the glow- 
ing countenance, the breathing frame, and glorious 
action. Therefore, I sav, assiduouslv study the phvsical 
branch of Elocution. 

The different exercises I have inserted in this work, 
both for the cultivation of voice and gesture, are those 
I have found of most benefit to students during' my 
life-long experience as a public speaker and teacher of 
elocution and dramatic action, and the assertions in 
reference to positions and movements on the stage or 
platform have been practically tested by me before au- 
diences in all parts of the country, and found to work 
admirably. 

Before taking up our work in the following pages, I 



8 INTRODUCTION 

would impress upon my reader the necessity of thor- 
oughly understanding his subject, then identifying him- 
self with it, and if this is done he will succeed, for to all 
such we can safely say, in the language of Bulwer, 

"There 's no such word as 'fail.'" 

The selections in the back part of the book are not 
chosen on account of their newness, but from their in- 
trinsic merit and their adaptability as exercises. 

Edwin Gordon Lawrence. 

New York, March, iSpj. 



ORGANS OK BREATH 



ORGANS OF BREATH. 



The muscles used in producing breath are the Dia- 
phragm, Abdominal, Dorsal, Intercostal and Pectoral. 

The Diaphragm seperates the chest from the abdo- 
men, forming the floor of the former cavity and the roof 
of the latter, and extends right through the body from 
the ribs in front to the spinal column. It is arched, 
being convex toward the chest and concave to the 
abdomen. 

The height of the Diaphragm varies, being carried 
downward when air is drawn into the lungs, and up- 
ward when breath is forced out. In a forced inspiration 
it is lowered from one to two inches and in exhalation 
raised a corresponding degree. 

The Diaphragm gives increased power to every ex- 
plosive effort and is always called into action in sneez- 
ing, coughing, laughing, panting or sobbing, a deep 
inhalation being taken before any of the above acts are 
performed. 

The Abdominal muscles are several in number and sit- 
uated on the sides and front of the abdomen, which 
brings them below the Diaphragm, on which they act. 
These muscles move outward when inhaling and inward 
when exhaling. 

The Dorsal muscles, or muscles of the back, are 
in several groups and extend from the back of the 
neck to the base of the spine. They move inward and 
outward. 

The Intercostal muscles are located between the 
ribs. 

The Pectoral muscles are located at the fore and 
upper part of the chest and act upon the ribs by raising 
and lowering them and in this manner expanding and 
contracting the chest. 



IO THE LUNGS — ORGANS OF SOUND — ORGANS OF SPEECH 



THE LUNGS. 

The Lungs are essential organs of respiration; they 
are two in number and placed one in either side of the 
chest. 

The right Lung is the larger and has three lobes, while 
the left is composed of but two. 

ORGANS OF SOUND. 

The Larynx is the organ of sound in the human 
being and is placed at the upper part of the air 
passage. 

The Epiglottis is a thin plate, shaped like a leaf and 
placed in front of the opening of the Larynx. . During 
respiration it is raised, but when swallowing it is so 
lowered as to completely close the opening of the 
Larynx. 

In the Larynx are the Vocal Cords, four in number, 
only two of which, however, are directly concerned in 
the production of voice. 

The Trachea, or air tube, is a cylindrical tube flat- 
tened at the back, and extends from the lower part of 
the Larynx. It is joined to the lungs by the two bron- 
chial tubes. Its province is to carry the air to and from 



the Lungs. 



ORGANS OF SPEECH. 



The organs of speech are the Soft and Hard Palate, 
the Tongue, Teeth and Lips. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 



The male and female organs of breath, sound and 
speech are precisely alike and should be used in the 
same manner. It is not, as some teachers assert, nat- 
ural for women to breathe by using- the costal and 
intercostal muscles, while men should use those of the 
waist. Were it not for the abominable manner of dress- 
ing adopted by the majority of women they would have 
no trouble whatever in breathing by using the dia- 
phragm and abdominal muscles; but when they so lace 
as to prevent the free action of these muscles they are 
compelled to rely on those of the chest. 

Breathing is both voluntary and involuntary; the 
former when used as the agency of voice, and the latter 
when promoting animal life. It should not, as a rule, 
be audible; but is necessarily so when yawning, sighing, 
panting, sniffing, hawking, aspirating, snoring, sobbing, 
coughing, sneezing, weeping and laughing. 

While the lungs cannot be entirely exhausted of 
breath and the animal live, still they may be very nearly 
emptied, and the student should take particular care to 
always have a supply in reserve and thus appear to 
have a greater amount than he is called upon to use. 

A good exercise for enlarging the lungs is to fully in- 
flate them with air drawn through the nostrils, hold the 
breath for a considerable space, and then as slowly 
exhale it. 

Not only is it essential to have a knowledge of the art 
of breathing, but assiduous practice and perseverance 
are absolutely required to enable us to gain control of 
the different muscles. 



12 BREATH 

Great care should be taken not to waste breath. We 
should inhale as rapidly as possible when speaking, and 
use only sufficient breath to produce the required 
voice, being - constantly on the watch to prevent breath 
escaping through the larynx without being converted 
into sound. 

The absolute necessity of breathing through the nos- 
trils cannot be too forcibly impressed upon the student 
of Elocution, as habitual mouth breathing is responsi- 
ble for many of the throat and lung troubles affecting 
those who employ the voice in reading and reciting. 
There are times when it may be advisable, and in some 
instances necessary, to inhale through the mouth as well 
as the nostrils, especially during a very passionate dis- 
course, but as a rule the air must be drawn into the 
lungs through the nostrils and the breath expelled 
through the mouth. 

BREATH. 

Forms of BrcatJiing. 

There are three forms of breathing, viz., the Effusive, 
Expulsive and Explosive. The first is merely allowing 
the breath to escape into the air; the second, pushing it; 
and the third, shooting it out. 

Exercise for Breathing. 

In these exercises the student must merely produce 
breath and not allow a particle of sound to escape from 
the larynx. 

Fully inflate the lungs by drawing in as much air 
through the nostrils as possible, keeping the mouth 
closed; at the same time expanding the chest, throwing 
out the abdominal and dorsal muscles and depressing 
the diaphragm; now open the mouth, draw in the ab- 
dominal and dorsal muscles, raise the diaphragm slowly 



SOUND — PITCH 1 3 

and effuse the breath into the air. The pressure of the 
waist muscles, which should be inward and upward, 
must be continued until the lung's are pretty well 
exhausted. 

The expulsive requires a quicker and stronger stroke 
of the waist muscles than the effusive, and the pressure 
must be continued just as though the breath were meet- 
ing with opposition and did not wish to leave, compel- 
ling you to push it out with steady force. 

The explosive, requiring still quicker and stronger 
action of the muscles than the expulsive, is shot from 
the lungs, and the waist muscles must be drawn inward 
and upward with a sudden stroke, as if a blow were 
aimed at the pit of the stomach. 

SOUND. 

Vocal sound proceeds from the breath acting on the 
vocal cords, causing them to vibrate. It is vocalized 
breath. 

Organs of Sound. 

There are four sets of organs concerned in th<- pro- 
duction of vocal sounds, viz.: 

ist. The muscles used in producing breath. 

2d. The lungs. 

3d. The larynx. 

4th. The pharynx, mouth and nasal passages. 

PITCH. 

There arc three divisions of the speaking vo.*,;,, which 
I shall term the upper, medium and lower rasters. 

The upper register is used in expressing joy, terror, 
alarm, exultation, rage, invective, threat, eagerness, stir- 
ring description, excitement or lively narration. Brisk, 
gay, joyous emotion, and passionate feeling of the 
lighter order is produced on this register. 



14 PITCH 

The medium register expresses all that is ordinary. 

The lower register is employed in giving expression 
to deep-seated feeling and intense passion. Grief, hate, 
horror, remorse — all that is sad and solemn; suppressed 
rage and brooding thought bring into play the tones of 
the lower register. The softest and most fervent ex- 
pressions of love and veneration also employ the deep 
tones of the voice. 

Exercise. 

Take, che sound of ah; breathe the same as when, in 

■A J 

the pj eceding exercise, you merely produced breath, 
and convert the breath into sound, continuing it as 
long as you conveniently can, pitching the voice on the 
medium register, which should be the tone used in 
ordinary conversation. Take the same sound again, 
using the expulsive form of breathing, and then the ex- 
plosive, on the same register. After getting this to 
your satisfaction, or as near right as you can, pitch the 
voice as low as possible and repeat the exercise. When 
this has been accomplished raise the voice to its 
highest pitch and go over the exercise again, thus ex- 
ercising the voice from one extreme tone to the other, 
and in doing so gradually extending its compass. Con- 
tinue this, taking each register alternately, until a tired 
feeling asserts itself or a dizzy sensation is apparent. 

The student must be careful not to strain the vocal 
cords when exercising on the extreme tones of the 
voice, and only produce such tones as he conveniently 
can. The voice must be coaxed and not forced, and 
unless this instruction is strictly followed series in- 
jury will be the result. 

While all vocal sound is produced in the larynx it 
must not be held there, but should be allowed to 
come freely into the air. Avoid mouthing; speak on 
the lips and not in the cavity of the mouth. 



THE SPEAKING VOICE I 5 

For all low tones the vibration of the sound should 
be thrown into the cavity of the chest, producing those 
full, round, grand tones possessing rich color and son- 
orous beauty, so like the sounds that come from the 
cathedral organ. For all high tones the vibration 
should be thrown into the cavity of the head. 

The tension of the vocal cords and position of the 
larynx regulate the pitch of the voice, the latter moving 
up or down as the tone changes. The vibrations of the 
vocal cords increase as the pitch of the voice rises. 

There are several vocal defects, such as nasal and 
throaty tones; the former being brought about, not as a 
great many suppose by speaking through the nose, but 
from a clogging of the head passages, which prevents the 
free vibration of the sound and its exit into the air. 
The throaty tones are caused by bringing down the epi- 
glottis while speaking, and confining the sound to the 
larynx. Only a living teacher can remedy these defects, 
so it would be useless to dwell upon them here or of- 
fer exercises to employ in their removal. 

THE SPEAKING VOICE. 

Speech is articulated sound and is produced by the 
action of the soft and hard palate, tongue, teeth and lips 
on the sound as it leaves the larynx. 



BREATH 




SOUND 




REGISTER 


Effusive j 








i Upper 


Expulsive V 


A 


E I O 


u 


-< Medium 


Explosive J 








( Lower 



Exercise on the above vowels the same as on ah, 
sounding each one clearly, and producing them on the 
medium register, effusive form of breathing first, then 
the expulsive and explosive forms, repeating the exer- 
cise on the lower and upper registers. Inflate the lungs 
fully before each sound, 



1 6 WHISPER 



WHISPER. 






The whisper is the softest form of articulated sound, 
and great benefit may be derived from careful practice 
on the whispering exercises. While it is the softest 
form of speech, still it is one of the most violent, as 
large quantities of breath are used in its production, 
and great pains must be taken to articulate very care- 
fully and not throw one wave sound after another until 
the first has passed the lips into the air and been safely 
launched on its journey. The epiglottis, or cover of the 
larynx, must be kept nicely raised, and the whisper 
thrown directly on the lips, and on no account held in 
the mouth or throat. The wrong production of the 
whisper is liable to do more injury to the organs of 
sound than if a full tone is wrongfully produced; there- 
fore special care must be taken when practicing on this 
exercise. The three forms of breathing are employed 
in whispering just the same as when the full tones of 
the voiee are used. 

Exercises in Whisper. 
Effusive — 

Now o'er the one half world 
Nature seems dead and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtained sleep: witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder 
Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf, 

Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace 
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, toward his design 
Moves like a ghost. 

Expulsive — 

Angels and ministers of grace defend us! 
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned; 
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, 



RULES OF ELOCUTION — ARTICULATION I J 

Be thy intents wicked or charitable; 
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
That I will speak to thee. 

Explosive — 

Now, fire! comrades! fire! up and at them! 
Fight, men, fight for your wives and your children and 
your homes. 

RULES OF ELOCUTION. 

The principal rules of Elocution are Articulation, 
Modulation, Emphasis and Delivery, for from these four 
golden rules all others arise and on them depend. 

Articulation — 

Articulation is the art of pronouncing every letter, 
syllable and word clearly and distinctly. 

There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet, 
and the vowels, or such letters that can be uttered 
alone, are as follows: 

A (a. as a letter, a as a word). Before words beginning 
with a vowel sound it takes the letter n after it. This let- 
ter has six sounds, as in ale, arm, all, an, glass, care, 

E, e long as in mete, short e as in met. 

I, I long as in fine, short i as in fin. 

O has various sounds, as 710 te, not, ?ior, move, done. 

U, as in tube, up, full. 

W, in diphthongs, is used as a vowel for uj as view, 
strew. 

Y, except at the beginning .of English words and syl- 
lables, is a vowel, and has the sound of i. 

Practice the following table of words on the three 
registers and in the three forms of breathing: 

Ale j Eve j lie Old Tube 

Arm 1 Mete ( Fine Lose Up 

All j End i In On Full 

An [ Met j Fin 



1 8 MODULATION 

Exci7nples. 

The first vowel, a, is often indistinctly heard, and is 
frequently mispronounced. Sometimes it is too broad, 
and again too thin. For instance, in such words as mass, 
glass and pass, it is mispronounced mass, glass, pass; 
and again, muss, glass, pass. The vowel o is at times 
drawn out until it sounds like aw, gone being pro- 
nounced as though spelt gawne i dog as though written 
dawg. This is a grievous fault and should be at once 
corrected. The letter u is ofttimes mispronounced oo, 
especially in such words as duke, which is generally 
uttered as though spelt dook. The termination sume, as 
consume and presume, is rarely properly pronounced, 
being spoken as soom. Dew and due should be pro- 
nounced du, and not doo, as is often the case. 

Avoid doubling the consonants, as d in and; do not 
utter it as though there were two ds, thus, and-d. The 
letter d when coming at the end of a word is some- 
times never heard, as in husband, a large number of 
persons pronouncing the word as if written husban. 
G is another letter often slighted, in such words as 
ringing, singing, etc. 

The terminations ance and ence are often confounded 
and uttered like u?ice, and ace like iss in the word 
furnace. The letter h is a great sufferer, especially 
when the first letter of a word or when coming after w y 
as in when, where, etc. Some even go so far as to call 
for fur; and many more such glaring errors are con- 
stantly being made through carelessness as much as 
ignorance. I might keep on citing instances of mispro- 
nunciation and poor articulation, but I think the above 
will suffice. 

Modulation — 

Modulation is changing the pitch and inflection of the 



MODULATION 1 9 

voice, so as to explain by the different tones the mean- 
ing of the words uttered. 

Examples. 

Take Tennyson's beautiful little poem of " The Bugle 
Song " and read it as follows: 

The splendor' {medium register, rising inflection} falls on 
castle walls v {lower register, falling inflection). 

And snowy summits' {medium register, rising inflection) old 
in story N {lower register , falling inflection)-, 

The long {hold the word "long'') light shakes {tremor stress) 
across the lakes, 

And the wild {full and round) cataract leaps {explosive) 
in glory. 

Blo\v v {falling inflection, bugle tone), bu' {rising) gle v {fall- 
ing), blow' {rising), set the wild echoes nVTng' 
{very light on word "flying" to represent the echo, and 
four strokes on the word, in this manner — fly^'i^ng'). 

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer, farther going; ' 
O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 

Blow (<3> middle stress, upper register), let us hear the 
purple glens replying (<^> middle stress, upper 
register, echo to " blow ") : 

Blow (<^>)> bu (<3>) gle (O); answer, echoes, dying 
(<0 > ), dying (O), dying (<3>) {gradually decreas- 
ing volume on the repetition of the word "dying" ten til 
the last is very soft and appears to come from a 
great distance), 

O love, they die in yon rich sky, 
They faint on hill or field or river : 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul 
And grow forever and forever. 



20 EMPHASIS — DELIVERY 

♦ 

Blow N bu'gle\ blow', set the wild echoes fly v Tng / , 
And answer echoes, answer, dyTng", dy^Tng", dy v 'i v ng' 
{the word "dying" forming the echo to (i B!ow^ btfgle^ t 
blow' " and gradually decreasing volume of sound 
tin til the last dying is very light and appears to be 
miles away among the hills). 

Emphasis — 

Emphasis is laying greater stress on a word and 
making it stand out boldly. The longer we hold the 
word and the greater the volume of voice employed, 
the stronger will be the emphasis. 

Examples. 

I know not what course others may take, but as for 
me, give me LIBERTY or give me DEATH. 

Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor? MEN, and wash not the 
stain away in blood? 

Delivery — 

Delivery is the most important of the four rules, for 
it combines them all. To possess a good delivery we 
must have thorough control of the voice, eye, muscles 
of the face, and movements cf the body ; for delivery is. 
not speech alone, it is expression. 

Exercise. 

When public bodies are to be addressed on moment- 
ous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and 
strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech 
further than it is connected with high intellectual and 
moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness, 
are the qualities which produce conviction. 

True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. 
It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning 
may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and 



STRESS 2 1 

phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they can- 
not compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject 
and in the occasion. 

Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of 
declamation, all may aspire after it : they cannot reach 
it. It comes, if it come at all, like the out-breaking 
of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth 
of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native 
force. 

The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments 
and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust 
men when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, 
their children, and their country, hang on the decision 
of the hour. Then, words have lost their power, 
rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. 
Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as 
in the presence of higher qualities. 

Then, patriotism is eloquent ; then self-devotion is 
eloquent. The clear conception, out-running the de- 
ductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, 
the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming 
from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the 
whole man onward, right onward, to his object — this, 
this is eloquence ; or rather it is something greater and 
higher than all eloquence — it is action, noble, sublime, 
godlike action. [SPEECH of Daniel Webster.] 

STRESS. 

Stress is used for emphasis, and there are six forms 
as follows: 

Initial Stress, [> 
Final Stress, <] 
Middle Stress, <> 
Compound Stress, [><] 
Thorough Stress, | | 
Tremulous Stress, ^-^v^- 



22 THE PASSIONS 

Exercise in Stress. 

Attend AIL [> 

I said Ally not one or two. <^J 

Join All ye creatures in his praise. <^> 

What! All? did they all fail? [><l 

Come one, come All. \ \ 

Oh! I have lost you AIL ^^ 

Produce the different forms of stress on the vowel a 
in all on the three registers. 

Initial stress is expressive of positive command, de- 
termination and explicit communication. 

Final stress. Annoyance. 

Middle stress. Reverence, sublimity and solemnity. 

Compound stress. Astonishment, surprise, sarcasm 
and contempt. 

Thorough stress. Defiance, triumph and rapture. 

Tremulous stress. Sorrow, feebleness, and extreme 
tenderness. 

THE PASSIONS. 

Fear and Languor lower the voice and sometimes 
deprive it of its power. 

ANGER if" high in pitch, hoarse, quick and loud. 

Despair is expressed by a low, moaning tone. 

HOPE is animated and full of life, sonorous in tone. 

REVENGE, similar to anger but stronger and bolder, 
and when intense speaks through the set teeth. 

Pity speaks in a gentle tone, soft, low and tremulous. 

Courage is bold, positive, and thorough stress is 
used. 

JEALOUSY is variable, changing from high pitch to 
low, from love to hate. 

Terror deprives the voice of all power. 

Melancholy. The voice is low, sad and slow. 

Cheerfulness. High pitch and brisk time. 



EXERCISES IN PITCH AND FORM OE BREATHING 23 

Joy. Similar to cheerfulness but fuller and more 
intense ; resounding quality. 

HORROR. Low pitch, tremulous stress. 

Admiration. Upper pitch, lively time ; similar to joy 
and cheerfuleess. 

Veneration. Calm, low tone, expressing a mingled 
feeling of awe and respect. 

EXERCISES IN PITCH AND FORM OF BREATHING. 

Medium Register, 
Effusive — 

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 
This is my own, my native land ? 

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

We sat by the river, you and I, 

In the sweet Summer time, long ago ; 

So smoothly the water glided by, 
Making music in its tranquil flow. 

Expulsive — 

Is it come to this ? Shall an inferior magistrate, a 
governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman 
people, in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, 
scourge, torture with fire and red-hot plates of iron, 
and at last put to the infamous death of the cross, a 
Roman citizen ? 

I will love thee with a love that never falters, 
With a steadfast love that knows not rest or peace, 
And the incense I will burn upon thine altars 
Will be pure and sweet as memories of Greece. 



24 EXERCISES IN PITCH AND FORM OF BREATHING 

Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief, 
who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena 
every shape of man or beast the broad empire of Rome 
could furnish, and who never yet lowered his arm. 

Explosive — 

"Forward the Light Brigade! 
Charge for the guns! " he said. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 

Loiver Regis tcr. 
Effusive — 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll ! 

For I love thee like the day, when sunshine-sated 

It sinks lingering in the twilight of its swoon, 
And I love thee with sweet fervor unabated, 

As some calm lake loves the glimmer of the moon. 

But thou, most awful form! 
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 
. How silently! Around thee and above 
Deep is the air and dark, — substantial black, — 
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, 
As with a wedge! 

Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness. 

Expulsive — 

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my 

hand and heart to this vote! It is my 

living sentiment, and by the blessing of God, it shall be 
my dying sentiment: — independence now and independ- 
ence forever. 

Oh, my sweet one, oh thou splendor of my yearning, 
Oh thou beauty that my nullity has won; 



EXERCISES IN PITCH AND FORM OF BREATHING 25 

To thy love my spirit ever will be turning-, 
Like the heliotrope's pale petals to the sun. 

And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house, 
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 

With woeful measure, wan Despair, 
Low, sullen sounds her grief beguiled. 

Explosive — 

Now, fire! comrades! fire! up and at them! Fight, 
men, fight for your wives and your children and your 
homes. They sweep on us like demons — are at the guns, 
are on the wall! hand to hand, steel to steel, knife to 
knife. 

Upper Register. 
Effusive— 

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last 
gleaming? 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the 
perilous fight, 
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly 
streaming; 
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still 
there ; 
Oh ! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? 

Expulsive — 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 

The flying clouds, the frosty light; 

The year is dying in the night — 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

On! on! 
Courage! One effort more, and all is won! 



26 EXERCISES IN PITCH AND EORM OE BREATHING 

Explosive— 

Awake! awake! 
Ring the alarm bell: — Murder and treason! — 
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 

Strike till the last armed foe expires! 
Strike for your altars and your fires! 
Strike for the green graves of your sires, 
God and your native land! 

Help! Help! Will no one aid? I die, I die! 

Sublimity. 

Deep, Full Tones, and Eeeusive and Expulsive 
Utterance — 
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — 

The image of eternity — the throne 
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

[The Ocean — Byron.] 

dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present tc the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thoughts : entranced in prayer 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

[Mont Blanc — Coleridge^ 

Fanciful and Humorous Style. 

(N. B. — This exercise must be practiced so as to pro- 
duce that playful, laughing style, so necessary to its 
successful rendition. The selection is full of fancy and 
humor. Laughter must be frequently introduced. Es- 



EXERCISES IN PITCH AND EORM OF BREATHING 2J 

pecially at the first, before the word "Oh!" also after 
"kisses " and at the conclusion.) 

Oh! then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. 

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes 

In shape no bigger than an agate stone 

On the forefinger of an alderman, 

Drawn by a team of little atomies 

Athwart men's noses, as they lie asleep; 

Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, 

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; 

The traces, of the smallest spider's web, 

The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; 

Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film, 

Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat, 

Not half so big as a round little worm 

Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; 

Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, 

Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 

Time out of mind the fairies' coachmakers, 

And in this state she gallops, night by night, 

Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love, 

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, 

O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; 

Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, 

And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; 

And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail 

Tickling a parson's nose, as 'a lies asleep, 

And then dreams he of another benefice: 

Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 

And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 

Of healths five fathoms deep: and then anon 

Drums in his ear; at which he starts and wakes; 

And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 

And sleeps again. 

[Mercutio's Queen Mab Speech — Shakespeare\ 



28 EXERCISES IN PITCH AND FORM OF BREATHING 

Enthusiastic Imagination. 
Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint 
The home to which, could Love fulfil its prayers, 
This hand would lead thee, listen! A deep vale 
Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world, 
Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold 
And whispering myrtles; glassing softest skies 
As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, 
As I would have thy fate! 
A palace lifting to eternal summer 
Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower 
Of coolest foliage musical with birds 
Whose song should syllable thy name! At noon 
We 'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder 
Why earth could be unhappy, while the Heavens 
Still left us youth and love! We 'd have no friends 
That were not lovers; no ambition save 
To excel them all in love; we 'd read no books 
That were not tales of love — that we might smile 
To think how poorly eloquence of words 
Translates the poetry of hearts like ours! 
And when night came," amidst the breathless Heavens 
We 'd guess what star should be our home when love 
Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light 
Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps, 
And every air was heavy with the sighs 
Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes, 
And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth 
In the midst of roses! — Dost thou like the picture? 

[Melnotte's Description of the Lake of 
Como — Edward Bulwer Lytton.] 

Tranquillity. 

Medium and Lower Register; Effusive and Expul- 
sive Utterance — 
To him who in the Love of Nature holds 



Exercises in pitch and form oE brEathixg 29 

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 

A various language; for his gayer hours 

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 

And eloquence of beauty; and she glides 

Into his darker musings with a mild 

And healing sympathy, that steals away 

Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart — 

Go forth, under the open sky, and list 

To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 

Comes a still voice: Yet a few days, and thee 

The all-beholding sun shall see no more 

In all his course, nor yet in the cold ground, 

Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth to be resolved to earth again, 

And lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 

To mix for ever with the elements — 

To be a brother to the insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad and pierce thy mould. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, 
The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good — - 
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, 
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills 



D KXKKCISKS IN PITCH \M> FORM OP BREATHING 

Rock-ribbed and ancieni as the sun — the vales 
Stretching in pensive quietness between, 
The venerable woods — rivers thai move 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks 

Thai make the meadows green, and poured round all, 

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, 

Ai\- bu1 the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 
The planets, all the infinite host ot^ heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes o( death 
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
The -lobe are but a handful to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
Of morning; pierce the Barcan wilderness. 
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 
Save his own dashing — yet — the dead are there; 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 
The flighl of years began, have laid them down 
In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. 
So shah thou rest; and what if thou withdraw 
In silence from the living, and no friend 
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
When thou art ^onc, the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one as before will chase 
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave 
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 
And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men, 
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
In the full strength of years — matron and maid, 
And the sweet babe, and the gray-haired man- 
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side 
By those who in their turn shall follow them. 
So live that when thy summons comes to join 






GESTURE — FEET POSITIONS 3 1 

The innumerable' caravan that moves 
To the pale realms of shade where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and southed 
By an unfaltering trust, ajjproach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

[ThanaTOPSIS — William Cullcn Bryant^ 

* GESTURE. 

The stroke of the gesture, and that of the voice, should 
be simultaneous, otherwise the effect is marred and the 
force of the movement lost. Gesture should never fol- 
low nor precede speech, it should accompany it. The 
action may commence long before you utter the word 
requiring the stroke of the gesture, but when the word 
is spoken the stroke of the gesture must be delivered at 
the exact moment that the stroke of the voice is heard. 

When the mason commences work on a building, he 
starts with the foundation, and after completing that, 
sets about rearing the structure firmly upon it. Follow- 
ing out this plan I will commence with the positions of 
the feet. 

Feet Positions. 

There are six positions of the feet; three of the right 
foot and three of the left. 

Whenever the speaker extends the arms, whether 
downward, horizontal or elevated, he must take the 
second position of the foot. If the movement expresses 
joy, supplication, veneration, etc., he must take either 
the second position right or second position left foot, 



*This system of Gesture is founded on that of the 
Rev. Gilbert Aus-cm, of London, England. 



32 FEET POSITIONS 

according to whichever hand is performing the princi- 
pal gesture; "but if the movement is brought about by 
fear, horror, surprise, terror, etc., he must take the 
second position retired (third position of the foot), as by 
this action the body is drawn away from the object 
which presents the motive for the movement. The 
first position right is vised when speaking to the right, 
or immediately in front, aud not gesticulating ; and the 
first position left when speaking to the left and not ges- 
ticulating. 

First Position, Right Foot — 

In this position the weight of the body should rest 
mainly on the left foot, right slightly in advance, and 
resting lightly, but in its whole length upon the floor; 
the space of the width of your own foot should separate 
the feet, the heels should be on a line, and the' feet at an 
angle of about seventy-five degrees. 

Second Position, Right Foot — 

Slide the right foot forward a distance of about its 
length; transfer the weight of the body to the right 
foot; raise the left heel from the ground, turning it 
slightly inward, allowing only the ball of the left great 
toe to rest upon the ground to prevent the body from 
tottering. 

First and Second Positions of the Left Foot — 

The positions are similar in every respect to those of 
the right, except that the left foot is in advance and per- 
forms the principal movement. 

Third or Retired Position of the Right Foot — 

The right foot being retired, bend that knee, throw 
the whole weight of the body upon that foot, retiring the 
body as much as possible; at the same time brace the left 
knee, which is advanced. 



position of the arms. 33 

Third or Retired Position of the Left Foot — 

This position is analogous to the retired position of 
the right. 

These six positions of the teet constitute all that are 
necessary either on the stage or platform. 

Position of the Arms. 

There are twelve primary movements of the arms, 
and from a combination of these all the gestures of the 
arms are made. 

I divide them into three parts: downward, horizontal 
and elevated, corresponding with the three registers 
and to express the same feelings. These are the verti- 
cal gestures, and those that cross them are termed 
transverse movements. Of the latter there are four, 
making twelve primary movements of the arms in all. 
They are as follows: 

Downwards forwards. 
Downwards oblique. 
Downwards extended. 
Downwards backwards. 

Horizontal forwards. 
Horizontal oblique. 
Horizontal extended. 
Horizontal backwards. 

Elevated forwards. 
Elevated oblique. 
Elevated extended. 
Elevated backwards. 

The downward movements must be made within 
forty-five degrees of the nadir, or point directly beneath 
the feet. The horizontal forty-five degrees above the 
downward, or on a line with the horizon. The elevated 



34 POSTURE AND MOTIONS OF THE HAND 

forty five degrees above the horizontal. The move- 
ments of the arms must not be angular, but should 
possess those graceful curves which the artist Hogarth 
so aptly styles " the curves of beauty." Care must also 
be taken in keeping perfect time with voice and gest- 
ure, the stroke of both coming on the same syllable. 

The arm and hand are the most important parts of 
the body in reference to oratory; in fact, they may be 
considered as jointly constituting the grand oratorical 
weapon. I hold that both hands should be equally used 
in the formation of gesture. When the person ad- 
dressed is on the right of the speaker, use the right 
hand, and when on the left, the one on that side of the 
body, at the same time advancing the corresponding 
foot. I am aware that this advice is in direct conflict 
with that of the ancient orators, but then, we must bear 
in mind that it was outside influences, bearing only on 
that age, that caused the old masters to say that the left 
hand should never perform gesture alone, and should 
be sparingly used even in conjunction with the other 
hand. Their form of dress precluded the use of the 
left arm, as it was generally engaged holding up the 
toga, consequently the principal part of gesticulation de- 
volved upon the right. Therefore, with the passing away 
of the ancient garment, I think the custom of employing 
the right arm alone, should also be a thing of the past. 

Always use the corresponding hand and foot i. e. right 
hand and right foot, left hand and left foot. 

When crossing the stage be particular to advance the 
right foot first when moving to the right, and the left 
foot when -going to the left. In this manner we will 
avoid the awkward crossing of the" feet. 

Posture and Motions of the Hand. 

The postures of the hand are determined by four dif- 
ferent circumstances. 



POSTURE AND MOTIONS OF THE HAND 35 

i. By the disposition of the fingers. 

2. By the manner of presenting the palm. 

3. By the combined disposition of both hands. 

4. By the part of the body on which they are occa- 
sionally placed. 

First Class of the Postures of the Hands, Depend- 
ing on the Disposition of the Fingers — 

The Natural State. The hand, when unconstrained, 
in its natural and relaxed state, either hanging down at 
rest, or raised moderately up, has all the fingers a little 
bent inwards towards the palm; the middle and third 
finger lightly touch; the fore-finger is separated from 
the middle finger, and less bent, and the little finger 
separated from the third, and more bent. The ex- 
tremity of the thumb bends a little outwards, and in its 
general length and disposition, is nearly parallel with 
the fore-finger. When the arm is raised horizontal, the 
hand is held obliquely between the postures inward and 
supine. Cresollius recommends the public speaker to 
adopt this posture of the hand, and for this preference 
he adduces the authority of Hipprocates and Galen. 
But it is not necessary that a speaker should confine 
himself to any one posture of the hand: variety may 
often demand the contrary; if, however, he should 
prefer using only one, this posture merits the preference. 

Clinched. The fingers in this disposition are firmly 
closed, and press their extremities upon the palm; the 
thumb aids the pressure, and is lapped, particularly 
over the middle finger. 

Extended. The fingers in this state, whatever may be 
the general position of the hand, are separated from 
each other with energy in proportion to the excitation 
of the speaker. 

Index. Pointing with the fore-finger, the other fingers 
turned inwards, and contracted with more or less force, 



36 POSTURE AND MOTIONS OF THE HAND 

according to the energy of the speaker. This gesture is 
used in reproach and indication, from the last of which 
it has its name, index. 

Holding. The finger and thumb are pressed together, 
either the fore or middle finger, or both; the other 
fingers are contracted, more or less, according to the 
degree of energy required by the sentiment. 

Hollow. When the palm is held nearly supine, and 
the fingers turn inwards, without touching. 

Grasping. The fingers and thumb seizing the gar- 
ments or the hair. 

Second Class of the Postures of the Hands, Depend- 
ing on the Manner of Presenting the Palm — 

Prone. The hand is prone when the palm is turned 
downwards. 

Supine. The hand is said to be supine when the palm 
is turned upwards. 

Inwards. When the palm is turned towards the 
brest and the hand is held on the edge. 

Outwards. When the palm is turned from the body, 
and towards the object, the thumb downwards, the hand 
held on the edge. 

Vertical. When the palm is perpendicular to the hor- 
izon, the fingers pointing upwards. 

Forwards. When the palm is presented forwards, the 
arm hanging down, or placed in one of the extended, or 
backward positions. 

Backwards. When the palm is turned backwards, the 
arm hanging down, or placed in one of the extended, 
or backward positions. 

Third Class of the Postures of the Hands Arising 
from the Combined Disposition of Both Hands — 

Of this class a few only are noticed, and those are they 



POSTURE AND MOTIONS OF THE HAND 37 

which are most in use among public speakers; others 
may be supplied as occasion may require. 

Applied. When the palms are pressed together, and 
the fingers and thumbs of each are mutually laid against 
each other. 

Clasped. When all the fingers are inserted between 
each other, and the hands pressed closely together. 

Folded. When the fingers of the right hand, at the 
second joint, are laid between the thumb and fore-finger 
of the left, the right thumb crossing the left. 

Crossed. When the left hand is placed on the breast, 
and the right on the left, or the contrary. 

Inclosed, When the knuckles at the middle joint of 
one hand, moderately bent, are received within the palm 
of the other, the fingers of which stretch along the 
back of the inclosed hand nearly to the wrist, the 
thumbs crossing, or rather, laid at length over each 
other. 

Touching. When the points of the fingers of each 
hand are brought lightly into contact. 

Wringing. When both hands are first clasped to- 
gether, and elevated, then depressed, and separated at 
the wrists, without disengaging the fingers. 

Enumerating. When the index finger of the right 
hand is laid successively upon the index, or the differ- 
ent fingers of the left. If the number of divisions be 
more than four, the enumeration should begin from the 
thumb. Sometimes the finger and thumb of the right 
hand hold the finger of the left, which represents the 
division. 

Fourth Class of the Posture of the Hands, Arising 
from the Part of the Body on which they are 
Occasionally Placed — 

The fourth class of the postures of the hands arises 



38 THE MOTIONS OF THE ARMS AND HANDS 

from the part of the body on which they are occasion- 
ally placed. The parts of the body and head most re- 
markable in this respect are the breast, the eyes, the lips, 
the forehead, the chin. 

The Motions of the Arms and Hands. 

In ascertaining the import of any posture of either 
arm, or hand, it is important to consider the posture in 
connection with the action by which it is produced; for 
any posture of the arm, or hand, may sustain different 
significant characters, because different actions give the 
same posture an entirely different import. This must 
be obvious to all who reflect that the effect of the pos- 
ture greatly depends upon the exact character of the 
motion, which is produced partly by the direction which 
the motion takes, partly by the force with which it is 
commenced, and partly by the distance through which 
it passes. 

The motions of the hands and arms together are, 
therefore, considered ; first, as to their direction; and 
secondly, as to their manner of moving. The energy is 
not here taken into account. 

As to the manner of motion, gesture may be con- 
sidered as: 

Noting. When the hand is first drawn back and 
raised, and then advanced, and, with a gentle stroke, 
depressed. 

Projecting, or pushing. When the arm is first re- 
tracted, and then thrust forward in the direction in 
which the hand points. 

Waving. When the fingers are first pointed down- 
wards, and then by a smart motion of the elbow and 
wrist, the hand is flung upward in a vertical direction. 

The Flourish. A circular movement above the head. 

The Sweep. A curved movement, descending from 



THE MOTIONS OF THE ARMS AND HANDS 2>9 

the opposite shoulder, and rising with velocity to the 
utmost extent of the arm, or the reverse; changing the 
position of the hand from supine to vertical, in the first i 
case, and from vertical to supine, in the latter. The 
sweep is sometimes doubled, by returning the arm 
through the same arch. 

Beckoning. When with the fore-finger, or the whole 
hand, the palm being turned inwards, a motion is made 
in the direction of the breast. 

Repressing. The reverse of the preceding gesture, 
when the fore-finger, or the whole hand, the palm turned 
outwards, makes a motion in opposition to the person 
addressed. The motions, in these last two gestures, are 
often repeated. 

Striking. When the whole fore-arm, and the hand 
along with it, descend from a higher elevation rapidly, 
and with a degree of force like a stroke, which is arrested 
when it has struck what it was aimed against. 

Recoiling. When after a stroke, as in the former gest- 
ure the arm and hand return to the position whence 
they proceeded. 

Advancing. When the hand, being first moved down- 
wards and backwards, in order to obtain greater space 
for action, is then moved regularly forwards, and raised 
as high as the horizontal position, a step being, at the 
same time, made in advance, to aid the action. 

Springing. When the hand, having nearly arrived at 
the intended limit of gesture, flies suddenly up to it by 
a quick motion of the wrist, like the blade of a pocket- 
knife, when it suddenly and decidedly snaps into its 
proper situation by the recoil of the spring. 

Throwing. When the arm, by the force of the gest- 
ure, is thrown, as it were, in the direction of the 
person addressed. 

Clinching. When the hand is suddenly clinched, and 
the arm raised in a posture of threatening. 



40 THE HEAD, THE EVES, THE SHOULDERS AND THE BODY 

Collecting. When the arm, from an extended posture, 
sweeps inwards. 

Shaking. When a tremulous motion is made by the 
arm and hand. 

Retracting. When the arm is withdrawn, preparatory 
to projecting or pushing. 

Rejecting. Is the action of pushing the hand verti- 
cally towards the object, and, at the same time, averting 
the head. 

Bending. Is the gesture preparatory to striking. 

The gestures here given will suffice as a specimen of 
some of the most useful in this class. 

The Head, the Jives, the Shoulders and the Body. 

As the head gives the chief grace to the person, so 
does it principally contribute to the expression of grace 
in delivery. 

The head should be held in an erect and natural pos- 
ture; for, when hung down, it expresses humility or 
diffidence; when thrown back, arrogance; when inclined 
to one side, languor or indifference. The movements 
of the head should be suited to the character of the 
delivery. They should accord with the gesture, and fall 
in with the action of the hands and the motions of the 
body. 

The head is capable of many appropriate expressions. 
Besides those nods which signify assent or approbation 
and rejection, there are motions of the head known, and 
common to all, which express modesty, doubt, admira- 
tion and indignation. But to use gesture of the head 
alone, unaccompanied by any other gesture, is consid- 
ered faulty. It is also a fault to shake or nod the head 
frequently, to toss it violently, or to agitate the hair, by 
rolling it about. 

The most usual motions and postures of the head are 
as follows: 



SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 4 1 

POSTURES AND MOTIONS OF DIRECTION OF THE EYES 

THE HEAD. 



Inclined. 

Erect. 

Assenting. 

Denying. 

Shaking. 

Tossing. 

Aside. 



Forwards. 

Averted. 

Downwards. 

Upwards. 

Around. 

Vacancy. 



The motions of the trunk contribute much to the 
effect in delivery. The gestures of the arms and hands, 
therefore, should always be supported by the accom- 
paniment of the body. Not by affected and ridiculous 
contortions, but by the manly and free exertions of the 
muscles of the body, the general consent of which is 
indispensable to the production of graceful motion. 

Sign ifica n t Ges titres. 

The most important of the significant gestures are the 
following : 

The Head and Face — 

The hanging down of the head denotes shame, or 
grief. 

The holding of it up, pride or courage. 

To nod forwards implies assent. 

To toss the head back, dissent. 

The inclination of the head implies diffidence or 
languor. 

The head is averted, in dislike or horror. 

It leans forward, in attention. 

The Eyes— 

The eyes are raised, in prayer. 
They weep, in sorrow. 



42 SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 

They burn, in anger. 

They are downcast or averted, in shame or grief. 
They are cast on vacancy, in thought. 
They are cast in various directions, in doubt and 
anxiety. 

The Arms — 

The placing of the hand on the head, indicates pain or 
distress. 

On the eyes, shame or sorrow. 

On the lips, an injunction of silence. 

On the breast, an appeal to conscience. 

The hand is waved, or flourished, in joy or contempt. 

Both hands are held supine, or they are applied or 
clasped, in prayer. 

Both are held prone, in blessing. 

They are clasped, or wrung, in affliction. 

They are held forward, and received, in friendship. 

The Body — 

The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and courage. 
Thrown back, pride. 

Stooping forward, condescension or compassion. 
Bending, reverence or respect- 
Prostration, the utmost humility or abasement. 

The Lower Limbs — 

The firm position of the lower limbs signifies courage, 
or obstinacy. 

Bended knees indicate timidity; or weakness. 

The lower limbs advance, in desire or courage. 

They retire, in aversion or fear. 

Start, in terror. 

Stamp, in authority or anger. 

Kneel, in submission and prayer. 

These are a few of the simple gestures which may be 
termed significant. 



COMPLEX SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 43 

Complex Significant Gestures. 

Complex significant gestures are employed chiefly in 
dramatic representation. They are combinations of 
simple significant gestures, variously associated accord- 
ing to the mingled passions which they represent. The 
boldest and most magnificent of them are termed atti- 
tudes. The following are examples of complex signifi- 
cant gestures: 

Reproach puts on a stern aspect ; the brow is con- 
tracted, the lip is turned up with scorn, and the whole 
body is expressive of aversion. 

Apprehension is the prospect of future evil, accom- 
panied with uneasiness of mind. 

TERROR excites the person who suffers under it, to 
avoid the dreaded object, or to escape from it. If it be 
some dangerous reptile on the ground, and very 
near, the expression is represented by starting back and 
looking downwards. If the danger threaten from a dis- 
tance, the terror arising is -expressed by looking for- 
wards, and not starting back, but merely in the retired 
position. But if the dread of impending death from the 
hand of an enemy awaken his passion, the coward flies. 

Horror, which is aversion or astonishment mingled 
with terror, is seldom capable of retreating, but remains 
in one attitude, with the eyes riveted on the object, the 
arms, with the hands vertical, held forward to guard the 
person, and the whole frame trembling. 

Listening, in order to obtain the surest and most 
various information, first casts the eye quickly in the 
apparent direction of the sounds ; if nothing is seen the 
ear is turned towards the point of expectation, the eye 
is bent on vacancy, and the arm is extended, with the 
hand vertical ; but all this passes in a moment. If the 
sounds proceed from different points at the same time, 
both hands are held up, and the face »and eyes altern- 



44 COMPLEX SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 

ately change from one side to the other with a rapidity 
governed by the nature of the sound ; if it be alarm- 
ing, with trepidation; if pleasing, with gentle motion. 

Admiration, if of surrounding natural objects of a 
pleasing kind, holds both hands vertical, and across, 
and then moves them outwards. In admiration arising 
from some extraordinary or unexpected circumstances, 
the hands are thrown up supine elevated, together with 
the face and the eyes. 

Veneration crosses both hands on the breast, casts 
down the eyes slowly, and bows the head. 

Deprecation advances in the extended position of the 
feet, approaching to kneeling, clasps the hands forcibly 
together, throws back the head, sinking it between the 
shoulders, and looks earnestly up to the person im- 
plored. 

In Appealing to Heaven the right hand is laid on the 
breast, then the left is projected supine upwards; the 
eyes are first directed forwards, and then upwards. 

In the Appeal to Conscience the right hand is laid on 
the breast, the left drops unmoved, the eyes are fixed 
upon the person addressed; sometimes both hands press 
the breast. 

Shame in the Extreme sinks on the knee and covers 
the eyes with both hands. This is a feminine expression 
of it. 

Mild Resignation falls on the knee, crosses the arms 
on the breast, and looks forwards and upwards towards 
heaven. 

Resignation mixed with Desperation stands erect 
and unmoved, the head thrown back, the eyes turned 
upwards and fixed, the arms crossed. 

Grief, arising from sudden and afflicting intelligence, 
covers the eyes with one hand, advances forwards and 
throws back the other hand. 
Attention, Demanding Silence, holds the finger on 



COMPLEX SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 45 

the lips and leans forwards, sometimes repressing with 
the left hand. 

Distress, when extreme, lays the palm of the hand 
upon the forehead, throws back the head and body, and 
retires with a long and sudden step. 

Deliberation, on ordinary subjects, holds the chin 
and sets the arm akimbo. 

Self-sufficiency folds the arms, and sets himself on 
his center. This was a favorite posture of Bonaparte. 

Pride throws back the body, and holds the head high. 

These few complex significant gestures are some of 
the most obvious, and principally such as occurred in 
the illustration of other parts of this system; they 
serve, however, in some degree, to explain the nature 
of these gestures. 

Surprise causes the body and lower limbs to retire, 
and affection stimulates the person to advance. 

When the thoughts flow without difficulty or opposi- 
tion, the movement of the limbs is free and direct. But 
when difficulties occur, or obstacles are discovered, a 
man either arrests his action entirely, or changes it to 
something altogether different. The direction of his 
eyes, and the action of his head, are also, under similar 
circumstances, quite altered. The eyes instead of mov- 
ing freely from object to object, become fixed, and the 
head is thrown back, if hanging down on the breast. 

Melancholy is a feeble and passive affection; it is 
attended by a total relaxation of the muscles, with a 
mute and tranquil resignation, unaccompanied by oppo- 
sition either to the cause or the sensibility of the evil. 
The character, externally, is languor, without motion, the 
head hanging at the "side next the heart," the eyes 
turned upon its objector; if that is absent, fixed upon 
the ground, the hands hanging down by their own 
weight, without effort, and joined loosely together. 

Anxiety is of a different character; it is restless and 



46 COMPLEX SIGNIFICANT GESTURES 

active, and manifest by the extension of the muscles; 
the eye is filled with fire, the breathing is quick, the 
motion is hurried, the head is thrown back, the whole 
body is extended. The sufferer is like a sick man who 
tosses incessantly, and finds himself uneasy in every 
situation. 

The significant gestures, however numerous and cor- 
rect, which a great actor makes in the representation of 
an entire dramatic character, bear no proportion to the 
number of those gestures which do not belong to this 
class, which are no less necessary, though they are not 
so splendid and imposing. The painter is struck by 
the boldest and finest of the significant gestures, which 
are called attitudes, and he records them; they are the 
proper objects of his art; they are striking, and less 
evanescent than the other gestures which pass un- 
noticed by him, although they make up by far the greater 
and more important part of the gestures requisite for 
illustrating the sentiments. These less prominent 
gestures give to the declamation its precision and 
force. A slight movement of the head, a look of the 
eye, a turn of the hand, a judicious pause, or interrup- 
tion of gesture, or a change of position in the feet, often 
illuminates the meaning of a passage, and sends it full 
of life and warmth, into the understanding. And the 
perfection of gesture, in a tragedian, will be found to 
consist more in the skillful management of the less 
showy action, than in the exhibition of the finest atti^ 
tudes. Attitudes are dangerous to hazard; the whole 
powers of the man must be wrought up to their high- 
est energy, or they become forced and frigid. Excellent 
players have been seen, who have never ventured in 
attitude; but none, deserving the name of excellence, 
have ever appeared, whose declamation has been de- 
ficient in precision or propriety. Where all the solid 
foundation of just and appropriate action has been laid, 



EXERCISE FOR WORD PAINTING 



47 



attitude, when regulated with taste and discretion, may 
be added to ornament the superstructure; but, when it 
is introduced unseasonably, or is overcharged, it is an 
evidence of deficiency of understanding, as well as of 
depravity of taste. 

EXERCISE FOR WORD PAINTING. 

When practicing on the following exercise care should 
be taken to speak each word with as mueh expression 
as possible, thus bringing out its meaning clearly. A 
great many more words suitable for the purpose might 
readily be found, and the student may add to my list at 
his discretion. 



Sweet 


Lofty 


Gloat 


Remorse 


Sour 


Deep 


Sob 


Groan 


Bitter 


Silence 


Quiet 


Shook 


Feeble 


Sin 


Glorious 


Gasping 


Mystery 


Slow 


Hate 


Vacant 


Flash 


Dim 


Despair 


Severe 


Frenzy 


Gloom 


Anguish 


Fade 


Pain 


Poor 


Laughter 


Force 


Slave 


Sneak 


Husky 


Small 


Vague 


Honor 


Thunder 


Holy 


Hoarse 


Joy 


Stern 


Near 


Bereft 


Rage 


Despair 


Smooth 


Courage 


Wailing 


Large 


Betrayed 


Calmly 


Sorrow 


Crouch 


Fear 


Murmur 


Haughty 


Far 


Quive 


Horror 


Sigh 


Blight 


Faith 


Dreaming 


Long 


Spurned 


Pity 


Burning 


Hope 


Trembled 


Doubt 


Kind 


Full 


Turbulent 


Freezing 


Cross 


Shame 


Hushed 


Terrible 


Love 


Towered 


Scorn 


Surged 


Glittered 


Growled 


Wonder 


Shouted 



48 EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS 

Exercise in Coloring Words. 

The lattice was open, and the wondrous melody came 
floating out upon the still night air. I knew it was he 
that was playing, and I hated him, and I tried not to 
stay and listen, but the magie of the music held me spell- 
bound and I could not stir. And the throbbing notes 
passed by me into the darkness like the quivering of un- 
seen wings, and they stretched their pinions under me 
and raised me up, till it seemed as though the little 
world had sunk away beneath my feet, and the rushing 
song was bearing me up to the gates of Heaven. And 
then the music broke with a bitter cry, as though some 
heart had burst, and the trembling chords were heavy 
with tears — now pitiful and low like the quiet sobbing 
of a little child, and now terrible and stern like the deep 
moaning of a strong man in his agony, and then it rose 
once more up through the star-lit temple of the night, 
cleaving the silence with a note so sweet, so pure, so 
full, so glorious with triumph over conquered pain that 
I felt as if my very soul were beating to escape against 
its prison bars, and knowing hardly what I did, I threw 
myself upon the ground and clung to it, and cried — I 
could not help it — till the playing ceased and the vibrat- 
ing harmony had been gathered up into the great bosom 
of the darkness, and had died away. 

EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS. 

Friends^, Romans', countrymen"! lend me your ears; 
I come to bury" Caesar', not to praise" him. 
The evil' that men do lives after" them; 
The good' is oft interred N with their bones: 
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus v 
Hath told you', Caesar" was ambitious"; 
If it were v so', it was a grievous fault, 
And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 



i 



EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS 49 

Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, — 
For Brutus is an * honorable man, 
So are they all, all honorable men, — 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 
But Brutus says he was ambitious, J. 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransom did the general coffers fill : 
Did this' in Caesar" seem ambitious'? 
When that the poor' have cried\ Caesar' hath wepf*; 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff : 
Yet Brutus says he was"' ambitious, 
And Brutus is an honorable man'. (?) 
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
I thrice presented him a kingly' crown N , 
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition"? 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, 

And, sure, he is an honorable manf \ ironically. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus" spoke', 
But here I am to speak what I do know\ 
You all did love him once", not' without cause": 
What cause " withholds you then to mourn' for him N ? 
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts 
And men have lost their reason! — Bear with me; 
My heart N is in the coffin' there with Caesar\ 
And I must pause till it come back to me. 



*" Brutus is an honorable man." In the first instance 
it should be spoken as if he really meant what he said ; 
in the second, almost the same, but with a slight shade 
of doubt ; in the third it should be spoken as though he 
asked the people If Brutus was an honorable man? 



$0 EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS 

But yesterday' the word of Caesar ' might 

Have stood against the world"; now lies he there, 

And none ' so poor' to do him reverence\ 

Masters"! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus' wrong\ and Cassius' wrong". 
Who', you air know', are honorable menf j ironically. 
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 

To wrong the dead", to wrong myself N , and you', 

Than I will wrong such N honorable menf \ ironically. 

But here 's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar; 

I found it in his closet; t is his will. 

Let but the commons hear this testament, — 

Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read, 

And they would go and kiss < dead Caesar's wounds s , 

And dip their napkins' in his sacred blood"; 

Yea', beg a hair" of him for memory, 

And, dying, mention it within their wills, 

Bequeathing it, as a rich' legacy", 

Unto their issue. 

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle; I remember 
The first time ever Caesar put it on; 
'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent; 
That day he overcame the Nervii. — 
Look! J- In this place ran Cassius ' dagger through; 
See what a rent the envious Casca made; 
Through this, the well beloved Brutus' stabbed", 
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
Mark J how the blood of Caesar followed it! 
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 
If Brutus so unkindly knocked', or no"; 



EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS 5 1 

For Brutus v , as yoiT know', was Caesar's' angel; 

Judge, O, ye gods, how dearly Caesar loved himM 

This was the most unkindest cut of all v ; 

For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 

Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart; 

And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar^ fell\ 

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 

Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 

Oh! now you weep; and I perceive you feel 

The dint of pity; — these are gracious drops. 

Kind souls! What, weep you when you but behold 

Our Caesars vesture wounded? Look ye here! 

Here is himself s , marred, as you see, by traitors\ 

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 

They N that have done' this deed are honorable'! -f irony. 
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, 
That made them do it. They are wise and honorable , 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is; 
But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
Thatlove N my friend; and that they know full' welP 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
To stir men's blood; — I only speak right on; 
I tell you that' which you yourselves' do know v ; 






52 EXERCISES IN INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS 

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb 

mouths, 
And bid them speak for me. But were I" Brutus", 
And Brutus" Antony", there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise' and mutiny*! 

[Antony's Address to the Romans— Shakespeare.] 

The quality of mercy? is not strained";?. 

It droppeth?. as the gentle rain N from heaven'? 

Upon the place beneath": It is twice "?, bless'dV? 

It blesseth him v that gives',? and him' that takes":? 

T is mightiest'? in the mightiest ";? it becomes 

The throned monarch'? better than his crown ":? 

His sceptre'? shows the force of temporal * power,? 

The attribute to awe and majesty,? 

Wherein doth sit? the dread' and fear' of kings,? 

But mercy ' is above " this sceptred' sway:? 

It is enthroned' in the hearts' of kings,? 

It is an attribute? to God himself ";? 

And earthly " power? doth then show likest N God's'? 

When mercy'? seasons Justice^. Therefore,? Jew',* 

Though Justice" be thy plea',? consider this" ,? 

That? in the course' of Justice,? none of us 

Should see salvation":? we do pray" for mercy", J. 

And that same prayer? doth teach us all to render" 

The deeds of mercy. 

[Portia's Speech on Mercy — Shakespeare.] 



SELECTED RECITATIONS 

ADVENTURE WITH A LION. 

PHILIP LAWRENCE. 

A year ago, on board a merchant ship, 

I sailed to the far land of Africa. 

One lovely morn I landed on the shore 

To gather fruit from off the laden boughs. 

Refreshed by luscious grapes I wandered on, 

And soon approached a venerable wood, 

Whose tall majestic trees in their deep shade 

Would shield me from the fierce rays of the sun. 

As I walked, sheltered by a leafy roof, 

Which tho o'erhanging bows spread over me, 

I heard the stag call loudly to its mate, 

And heard the doe in gentle tones reply. 

Sometimes a serpent hissed within the shade, 

And warned me to beware of poisoned fangs; 

Still I pressed onward with a lightsome heart, 

Till, as I turned a corner of the wood, 

Right in my path a lordly lion stood. 

Each stood amazed and gazed upon the other. 

Then the majestic brute slowly advanced 

Until not more than thirty feet away. 

With a low growl resembling muffled thunder 

He fixed his glaring eyes full upon mine, 

As if tc fright all courage from my heart. 

I stood transfixed and hardly dared to breathe. 

What visions passed before my mental eyes! 

I seemed to see my native home once more, 

I seemed to hear my mother's voice again. 



54 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

As in a dream the past deeds of my life 

Began to pass before my mental sight. 

Then the trees glided on in mystic dance, 

And beauteous colors floated in the air; 

A lovely rainbow spanned the azure sky, 

And angels' songs were ringing in mine ears. 

Sudden the vision vanished, and I knew 

That I was standing, face to face, with Death. 

All this time mine eyes had never wavered, 

But had returned the lion's piercing gaze, 

Who seemed irresolute and did not spring. 

It thus appears to me that the wild beast 

Will not attack the daring man, unless 

Some sign of fear should in his face be seen. 

There is a majesty which God hath given 

Unto the face of man, that, until he 

Degrades his noble nature by base fear, 

Or shameful vice, not even the fiercest beast 

Will dare attack him, standing face to face, 

But springs upon him when he s unaware. 

How long we stood in mutual amaze 

I cannot say: it seemed to me an age. 

Suddenly the lion lifted up his voice, 

And the vast forest echoed with his roar; 

As if the awful " Trump of Doom " had blown, 

All did awake as from the sleep of Death ; 

The jackals howled, the frightened eagle screamed, 

The monkeys chattered, and the herds of deer 

Fled swiftly far away in wild affright. 

I did not move, although my heart beat fast. 

At length the royal beast, with stately tread, 

Turned slowly round, and went upon its way. 

I feel I am no hypocrite, but yet 

I do not shame to say, that 1 sank down 

Upon my knees, in grateful thanks to God ! 

Who had preserved me in dark peril's hour. 



i 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 55 

-BAY BILLY." 

FRANK H. CASSAWAY. 

You may talk of horses of renown, 

What Goldsmith Maid has done, 
How Dexter cut the seconds down, 

And Fellowcraft's great run. 
Would you hear about a horse that once 

A mighty battle won? 

'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg — 

Perhaps, the day you reck, 
Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine, 

Kept Early's men in check. 
Just where Wade Hampton boomed away 

The fight went neck and neck. 

All day we held the weaker wing, 

And held it with a will ; 
Five several stubborn times we charged 

The battery on the hill, 
And five times beaten back, re-formed, 

And kept our columns still. 

At last from out the center fight 

Spurred up a General's Aid. 
" That battery must silenced be! " 

He cried, as past he sped. 
Our Colonel simply touched his cap, 

And then, with measured tread, 

To lead the crouching line once more 

The grand old fellow came. 
No wounded man but raised his head 

And strove to gasp his name, 
And those who could not speak nor stir, 
" God blessed him " just the same. 



$6 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

For he was all the world to us, 

That hero gray and grim; 
Right well he knew that fearful slope 

We 'd climb with none but him, 
Though while his white head led the way 
We 'd charge hell's portals in. 

This time we were not half way up, 
When, midst the storm of shell, 

Our leader, with his sword upraised, 
Beneath our bay'nets fell. 

And, as we bore him back, the foe 
Set up a joyous yell. 

Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, 

And when the bugle said 
"Up, charge again! " no man was there 

But hung his dogged head. 
" We Ve no one left to lead us now," 

The sullen soldiers said. 

Just then, before the laggard line 
The Colonel's horse we spied — 

Bay Billy with his trappings on, 
His nostrils swelling wide, 

As though still on his gallant back 
His master sat astride. 

Right royally he took the place 

That was of old his wont, 
And with a neigh, that seemed to say 

Above the battle's brunt, 
" How can the Twenty-Second charge 

If I am not in front ? " 

Like statues we stood rooted there, 

And gazed a little space; 
Above that floating mane we missed 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION $7 

The dear familiar face; 
But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire 
And it gave us heart of grace. 

No bugle call could rouse us all 

As that brave sight had done. 
Down all the battered line we felt 

A lightning impulse run; ^j 

Up, up the hill we followed Bill, 

And captured every gun! 

And when upon the conquered height 

Died out the battle's hum, 
Vainly 'mid living and the dead 

We sought our leader dumb, 
It seemed as if a spectre steed 

To win that day had come. 

And then the dusk and dew of night 

Fell softly o'er the plain, 
As though o'er man's dread work of death 

The angels wept again, 
And drew night's curtain gently round 

A thousand beds of pain. 

All night the surgeon's torches went 

The ghastly rows between- — 
All night with solemn step I paced 

The torn and bloody green; 
But who that fought in that big war 

Such dread sights have not seen! 

At last the morning broke. The lark 

Sang in the merry skies, 
As if to e'en the sleepers there 

It bade wake, and arise! 
Though naught but that last trump of all 

Could ope their heavy eyes. 



58 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And then once more, with banners gay, 
Stretched out the long brigade; 

Trimly upon the furrowed field 
The troops stood on parade. 

And bravely 'mid the ranks were closed 
The gaps the fight had made. 

Not half the Twenty-Second's men 
Were in their place that morn, 

And Corp'ral Dick, who yester-morn 
Stood six brave fellows on, 

Now touched my elbow in the ranks, 
For all between had gone. 

Ah! who forgets that dreary hour 

When, as with misty eyes, 
To call the old familiar roll 

The solemn Sergeant tries — 
One feels that thumping of the heart 

As no prompt voice replies. 

And as in falt'ring tones and slow 
The last few names were said, 

Across the field some missing horse 
Toiled up with weary tread. 

It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick 
Bay Billy's name was read. 

Yes! there the old bay hero stood, 
All safe from battle's harms, 

And ere an order could be heard, 
Or the bugle's quick alarms, 

Down all the front, from end to end, 
The troops presented arms! 

Not all the shoulder-straps on earth 

Could still our mighty cheer. 
And ever from that famous day, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 59 

When rang the roll-call clear, 
Bay Billy's name was read, and then 
The whole line answered "Here!" 

CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. 
george croly. 

Conscript Fathers: 
I do not rise to waste the night in words; 
Let that Plebeian talk, 'tis not my trade; 
But here I stand for right — let him show proofs, — " 
For 'Roman right, though none, it seems, dare stand 
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there! 
Cling to your master, judges, Romans, slaves! 
His charge is false; — I dare him to his proofs. 
You have my answer. Let my actions speak! 

But this I will avow, that I have scorned 
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong. 
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword; 
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, 
Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts 
The gates of honor on me, — turning out 
The Roman from his birthright ; and for what ? 

To fling your offices to every slave! 
Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb, 
And, having wound their loathsome track to the top 
Of this huge, mouldering monument to Rome, 
Hang hissing at the nobler man below. 

Come, consecrated Lictors, from your thrones; 

(To the Senate.} 
Fling down your sceptres; take the rod and axe, 
And make the murder as you make the law. 

Banished from Rome ! What 's banished, but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe? 
" Tried and convicted traitor! " Who says this? 



60 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head? 

Banished! I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain! 

I held some slack allegiance till this hour; 

But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords! 

I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 

Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 

I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 

To leave you in your lazy dignities. 

But here I stand and scoff you! here I fling 

Hatred and full defiance in your face! 

Your Consul 's merciful; — for this, all thanks. 

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline! 



" Traitor!" I go; but, I return! This — trial! 
Here I devote your Senate! I 've had wrongs 
To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 
This day 's the birth of sorrow; this hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths,my Lords! 
For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus; all shames and crimes; 
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 

I go; but not to leap the gulf alone. 
I go; but when I come, 't will be the burst 
Of ocean in the earthquake, — rolling back 
In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well ! 
You build my funeral-pile; but your best blood 
Shall quench its flame! Back, slaves! (To the Lictors.) 
I will return. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 6 1 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 

Hold the lantern aside, and shudder not so; 

There 's more blood to see than this stain on the snow; 

There are pools of it, lakes of it, just over there, 

And fixed faces all streaked, and crimson-soaked hair. 

Did you think, when we came, you and I, out to-night 

To search for our dead, yon would be a fair sight? 

You 're his wife; you love him — you think so; and I 
Am only his mother; my boy shall not lie 
In a ditch with the rest, while my arms can bear 
His form to a grave that mine own shall soon share. 
So, if your strength fails, best go sit by the hearth, 
While his mother alone seeks his bed on the earth. 

You will go! then no faintings! Give me the light, 
And follow my footsteps, — my heart will lead right. 
Ah, God! what is here? a great heap of slain, 
All mangled and gory! — what horrible pain 
These beings have died in! Dear mothers, ye weep, 
Ye weep, oh, ye weep o'er this terrible sleep! 

More! more! Ah! I thought I could never more know 
Grief, horror, or pity, for aught here below, 
Since I stood in the porch and heard his chief tell 
How brave was my son, how he gallantly fell. 
Did they think I cared then to see officers stand 
Before my great sorrow, each hat in each hand! 

Why, girl, do you feel neither reverence nor fright, 
That your red hands turn over toward this dim light 
These dead men that stare so? Ah, if you had kept 
Your senses this morning ere his comrades had left, 
You had hoard that his place was worst of them all, — 
Not 'mid the stragglers, — where he fought he would fall. 



62 simplified Elocution 

There 's the moon through the clouds: O Christ what a 

scene! 
Dost thou from thy heavens o'er such visions lean, 
And still call this cursed world a footstool of thine ? 
Hark, a groan! there another, — here in this line 
Piled close on each other! Ah, here is the flag, 
Torn, dripping with gore; — bah! they died for this rag. 

Here 's the voice that we seek : poor soul, do not start; 
We re women, not ghosts. What a gash o'er the heart! 
Is there aught we can do? A message to give 
To any beloved one? I swear, if I live, 
To take it for sake of the words my boy said, 
" Home," " mother," " wife," ere he reeled down mong 
the dead. 

But, first, can you tell where his regiment stood? 
Speak, speak, man, or point; 'twas the Ninth. Oh, the 

blood 
Is choking his voice! What a look of despair! 
There, lean on my knee, while I put back the hair 
From eyes so fast glazing. Oh, my darling, my own, 
My hands were both idle when you died alone. 

He 's dying — he 's dead! Close his lids, let us go. 
God's peace on his soul! If we only could know 
Where our own dear one lies! — my soul has turned sick; 
Must we crawl o'er these bodies that lie here so thick! 
I cannot! I cannot! How eager you are! 
One might think you were nursed on the red lap of War. 

He's not here, — and not here. What wild hopes flash 

through 
My thoughts, as foot-deep I stand in this dread dew, 
And cast up a prayer to the blue, quiet sky! 
Was it you, girl, that shrieked? Ah! what face doth lie 
Upturned toward me there, so rigid and white? 
O God, my brain reels! 'T is a dream. My old sight 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 63 

Is dimmed with these horrors. My son! oh, my son! 
Would I had died for thee, my own, only one! 
There, lift off your arms; let him come to the breast 
Where first he was lulled, with my soul's hymn, to restc 
Your heart never thrilled to your lover's fond kiss 
As mine to his baby-touch; was it for this? 

He was yours, too; he loved you? Yes, yes, you 're right. 
Forgive me, my daughter, I 'm maddened to-night. 
Do n't moan so, dear child; you 're young, and your years 
May still hold fair hopes; but the old die of tears. 
Yes, take him again; — ah! do n't lay your face there; 
See, the blood from his wound has stained your loose 

hair. 
How quiet you are! Has she fainted? — her cheek 
Is cold as his own. Say a word to me, — speak! 
Am I crazed! Is she dead! Has her heart broke first! 
Her trouble was bitter, but sure mine is worst. 
I 'm afraid, I 'm afraid, all alone with these dead; 
Those corpses are stiring; God help my poor head! 

I '11 sit by my children until the men come 

To bury the others, and then we 11 go home. 

W T hy, the slain are all dancing! Dearest, do n't move. 

Keep away from my boy; he 's guarded by love. 

Lullaby, lullaby; sleep, sweet darling, sleep! 

God and thy mother will watch o'er thee keep. 

DRIFTING. 

T. BUCHANAN READ. 

My soul to-day 

Is far away, 
Sailing the Vesuvian bay; 

My winged boat, 

A bird afloat, 
Swims round the purple peaks remote:— 



64 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Round purple peaks 
It sails, and seeks 

Blue inlets and their crystal creeks, 
Where high rocks throw, 
Through deeps below, 

A duplicated golden glow. 

Far, vague, and dim, 
The mountains swim; 

While on Vesuvius' misty brim, 

With outstretched hands 
The gray smoke stands 

O'erlooking the volcanic lands. 

Here Ischia smiles 

O'er liquid miles; 
And yonder, bluest of the isles, 

Calm Capri waits, 

Her sapphire gates 
Beguiling to her bright estates. 

I heed not, if 

My rippling skiff 
Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff; 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise. 

Under the walls 

Where swells and falls 
The Bay's deep breast at intervals 

At peace I lie, 

Blown softly by, 
A cloud upon this liquid sky. 

The day so mild, 
Is Heaven's own child, 
With earth and ocean reconciled; — 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 65 

The airs I feel 
Around me steal 
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 

Over the rail 

My hand I trail 
Within the shadow of the sail; 

A joy intense, 

The cooling sense 
Glides down my drowsy indolence. 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Where summer sings and never dies, — 

O'erveiled with vines, 

She glows and shines 
Among her future oil and wines. 

Her children, hid 

The cliffs amid, 
Are gambolling with the gambolling kid; 

Or down the walls, 

With tipsy calls, 
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 

The fisher's child, 

With tresses wild, 
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 

With glowing lips 

Sings as she skips, 
Or gazes at the far-off ships. 

Yon deep bark goes 

Where traffic blows, 
From land of sun to lands of snows; — 

This happier one. 

Its course is run 
From lands of snow to lands of sun. 



66 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

O happy ship, 

To rise and dip, 
With the blue crystal at your lip! 

O happy crew, 

My heart with you 
Sails, and sails, and sings anew! 

No more, no more 

The worldly shore 
Upbraids me with its loud uproar! 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise! 

CHARGE OF PICKETT'S DIVISION AT THE 
BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 

WILLIAM MCMICHAEL. 

It is twelve o'clock, July 3d, and to-morrow will be the 
anniversary of our Independence. What tidings of joy 
or of sorrow shall its bells proclaim to the people. Gird 
your loins, ye yeomen of our legions, for it is honor, and 
liberty, and a nation for which you are contending. 
Twelve o'clock, and the heart of nature seems almost to 
cease its beating in the intensity of dread expectation, 
while the effulgent sun looking down at high meridian 
seems as of old to stand still in its course, as though 
shrinking appalled from the fearful slaughter it shall 
witness. The pause of carnage, the brink of fate, for as 
the great orb bends slowly towards the western horizon 
and marks the single hour upon the dial, a signal gun 
breaks the solemn stillness. 

And then from the line of the enemy all along those 
hills where his masses lie waiting, there bursts forth a 
tempest of flame and smoke, and terrific cannonading, 
such as this continent never before witnessed; nor 
seems to slacken its thundering death-hail until from 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 67 

the sulphurous canopy, a part of the rebel front is seen 
advancing. Now for the tug of war! Now for the 
death -grip of the battle! For yonder come Pickett's 
men, who swear by the Lone Star they never have been 
beaten and never will be, and on their either flank war- 
riors of a score of fights. 

Eighteen thousand tested veterans, wrought into a 
titanic war-bolt — shaft of adamant, edges of steel — 
hurled forth to crush our center with ponderous on- 
slaught. As they start, down rides Hancock along our 
line, superb that day in the beauty of his valor. " Here 
they come!" he cries out cheerily, " Here they come, in 
three lines of battle! Steady, men, steady!" " All right, 
General, we are ready! We hold this line, or die on it! " 
But as they develop in the fields and move forward, our 
artillery rains destruction. It rakes them with shot, it 
rends them with shell, until on right and left they 
falter and stagger. Their flanks are crumbling, but 
their center keeps firm. Oh! stay them, Pickett. Your men 
of iron, they seem too brave to kill ! But on they come, 
and on, and on, till we see their faces and hear their 
yells. These are not men; they are furies, maddened 
with treason, frenzied with hate. Now, fire! comrades! 
fire! — up and at them! Fight, men, fight for your wives 
and your children and your homes. They sweep on us 
like demons — are at the guns, are on the wall! — hand to 
hand, steel to steel, knife to knife. Now, Cushing, give 
them your canister! Now, Woodruff, tear them with 
your grape! Hall, to the rescue! — 7 2d, down on them 
like tigers! Flank them, Stannard! crush them, Gibbon! 
mash them, Webb! They reel, they waver, their colors 
are going! They break, they break! — they retreat, they 
retreat! The charge is repulsed, the battle is won! All 
honor to our heroes who survive — all reverence for 
those who have fallen — all praise to their gallant leader, 
and all thanks unto God who gave us the victory. 



68 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

SOFTLY MURMUR. 

PHILIP LAWRENCE. 

Softly murmur, gentle breezes, 
Waft my thoughts to her I love, 
Lightly lift her flowing ringlets, 
O'er her tender bosom rove; 
Tell her that her image ever 
In my breast has made its home, 
That my heart will never waver, 
But will beat for her alone. 

Softly murmur, gentle waters, 
Flowing down the mossy glade; 
Bringing perfume to the flowers; 
Giving lightness to the shade; 
Bringing fragrance to the forest, 
In the pleasant hours of e'en; 
To the fields a robe of beauty, 
To the leaves a brighter green. 

Softly murmur, gentle voices, 
Soothing care and healing woe, 
Bringing to the chastened spirit 
Hopes forgotten long ago. 
Bringing comfort to the dying; 
To the weary, giving rest; 
Like the whispering of angels 
In the mansions of the blest. 

DAMON AND PYTHIAS; OR, TRUE FRIENDSHIP. 
WM. PETER. 

" Here, guards! " pale with fear, Dionysius cries, 

" Here, guards, yon intruder arrest! 
"'Tis Damon — but ha! speak, what means this disguise? 

And the dagger which gleams in thy vest? " 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 69 

"'Twas to rree," says the youth, "this dear land from its 

chains! " 
"Free the land! wretched fool, thou shalt die for thy 

pains." 

" I am ready to die — I ask not to live, — 

Yet three days of respite, perhaps thou may'st give, 

For to-morrow, my sister will wed, 
And 't would damp all her joy, were her brother not 

there; 
Then let me, I pray, to her nuptials repair, 

While a friend remains here in my stead." 

With a sneer on his brow, and a curse in his breast, 
"Thou shalt have," cries the tyrant, " shalt have thy 
request; 

To thy sister repair, and her nuptials attend, 
Enjoy thy three days, but — mark well what I say — 
Return on the third; if, beyond that fixed day, 
There be but one hour's, but one moment's delay, 

That delay shall be death to thy friend! " 

Then to Pythias he went; and he told him his case; 
That true friend answered not, but, with instant embrace, 

Consenting, rushed forth to be bound in his room; 
And now, as if winged with new life from above, 
To his sister he flew, did his errand of love, 
And, ere a third morning had brightened the grove, 

Was returning with joy to his doom. 

But the heavens interpose, 

Stern the tempest arose, 
And when the poor pilgrim arrived at the shore, 

Swoll'n to torrents, the rills 

Rushed in foam from the hills, 
And crash went the bridge in the whirlpool's wild roar. 

Wildly gazing, despairing, half frenzied he stood; 
Dark, dark were the skies, and dark was the flood, 



70 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And still darker his lorn heart's emotion; 
And he shouted for aid, but no aid was at hand, 
No boat ventured forth from the surf-ridden strand, 
And the waves sprang, like woods, o'er the lessening land, 

And the stream was becoming an ocean. 

Now with knees low to earth, and with hands to the skies, 
f< Still the storm, God of might, God of mercy! " he 
cries — 

" O, hush with Thy breath this loud sea; 
The hours hurry by, — the sun glows on high; 
And should he go down, and I reach not yon town, 

My friend — he must perish for me! " 

Yet the wrath of the torrent still went on increasing, 
And waves upon waves still dissolved without ceasing, 

And hour after hour hurried on; 
Then by anguish impelled, hope and fear alike o'er, 
He, reckless, rushed into the water's deep roar; 
Rose — sunk — struggled on — till, at length, the wished 
shore, — 

Thanks to Heaven's outstretched hand — it is won! " 

'T is sunset; and Damon arrives at the gate, 
Sees the scaffold and multitudes gazing below; 

Already the victim is bared for his fate, 

Already the deathsrnan stands armed for the blow; 

When hark! a wild voice which is echoed around, 

" Stay! — 't is I — it is Damon, for whom he was bound!" 

And now they sink in each other's embrace, 

And are weeping for joy and despair; 
Not a soul among thousands, but melts at their case, 

Which swift to the monarch they bear; 
Even he, too, is moved — feels for once as he ought — 
And commands that they both to his throne shall be 
brought. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 71 

Then, — alternately gazing on each gallant youth. 

With looks of awe, wonder and shame; — 
"Ye have conquered!" he cries, "yes, I see now that 
truth,— 

That friendship is not a mere name. 
Go; — you 're free; but, while life's dearest blessings you 
prove, 

Let one prayer of your monarch be heard, 
That his past sins forget — in this union of love, 

And of virtue — you make him the third." 

CLARENCE'S DREAM. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? 

Clarence. Oh! I have passsd a miserable night, 
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, 4 

That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 
I would not spend another such a night, 
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days; 
So full of dismal terror was the time. 

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you 
tell me. 

Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tower, 
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster; 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches; thence we looked towards England, 
And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
During the wars of York and Lancaster 
That had befallen us. As we passed along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, 
Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard, 
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
0, Heaven! methought, what pain it was to drown! 






SMPLIFIED BLOCt TION 



What dreadful noise of waters in mine ear 
What sights of ugly death within mine < 
1 thoughl I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon; 
Wed : pearl, 

imable st< >nes, unvalued >••■ 
All scattered in the bottom «»t the &i 

Sonic- lay in dead nun's skulls; and in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, 
As 't were in scorn i ms, 

That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, 
And mocked the dead bones that la) scattered by. 
Had you such leisure in the tin ath, 

tze njx >n th< <\ the deep? 

dar, Methought, I had; and often did I Btrive 
To yield the but -till the envious flood 

Kepi in my soul, and would nol lei it forth 

\\i\ t lu- em] ■' and wander 

Bui smothered it within my panting bulk, 
Which almosl bursl to belch it in the s< 

ik. Awaked you no1 with this sore agony? 

oh. no! my dream was lengthened afterlife, 
Oh! then began the tempesl to my soul! 

ssed, methought, the melancholy ll 1, 

With that grim ferryman, which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom <>f perpetual night. 
The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; 
Who cried aloud, — "What - tor perjury 

Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence? " 
And so he vanished: Then came wandering by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood; and lie shrieked out aloud, — 
"Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury; — 
Sieze on him, furies, take him to vour torments! " — 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 73 

With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Environed me, and howled in mine eara 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
I trembling waked, and, for a season after, 
Could not believe but that I was in hell; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 

Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you; 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 

Clar. I pray thee, Brakenbury, stay by me; 
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 

THE BLACKSMITH'S STORY. 

FRANK OLIVE. 

Well, No! My wife ain't dead, sir, but I 've lost her all 

the same; 
She left me voluntarily, and neither was to blame. 

It 's rather a queer story, and I think you will agree — 
When you hear the circumstances — 't was rather rough 
on me. 

She was a soldier's widow. He was killed at Malvern Hill; 
And when I married her she seemed to sorrow for him 

still; 
But I brought her here to Kansas, and I never want to see 
A better wife than Mary was for five bright years to me. 

The change of scene brought cheerfulness, and soon a 

rosy glow 
Of happiness warmed Mary's cheeks and melted all 

their snow. 
I think she loved me some — I 'm bound to think that of 

her, sir, 
And as for me — I can 't begin to tell how I loved her! 

Three years ago the baby came our humble home to bless; 
And then I reckon I was nigh to perfect happiness; 



74 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

'T was hers — 't was mine — ; but I Ve no language to 

explain to you, 
How that little girl's weak fingers our hearts together 

drew: 

Once we watched it through a fever, and with each 

gasping breath, 
Dumb with an awful, wordless woe, we waited for its 

death; 
And, though I 'in not a pious man, our souls together 

there, 
For Heaven to spare our darling, went up in voiceless 

prayer. 

And when the doctor said 't would live, our joy what 
words could tell? 

Clasped in each other's arms, our grateful tears to- 
gether fell. 
Sometimes, you see, the shadow fell across our little nest, 
But it only made the sunshine seem a doubly welcome 

guest. 

Work came to me a plenty, and I kept the anvil ringing; 
Early and late you 'd find me there a hammering and 

singing; 
Love nerved my arm to labor, and moved my tongue to 

song, 
And though -my singing was n't sweet, it was tremendous 

strong! 

One day a one-armed stranger stopped to have me nail 

a shoe, 
And while I was at work, we passed a compliment or two; 
I asked him how he lost his arm. He said 't was shot 

away 
At Malvern Hill. "At Malvern Hill! Did you know 

Robert May?" 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 7$ 

"That 's me," said he. " You, you! " I gasped, choking 
with horrid doubt; 

" If you 're the man, just follow me; we '11 try this mys- 
tery out!" 

With dizzy steps, I led him to Mary. God! 'T was true! 

Then the bitterest pangs of misery, unspeakable, I knew. 

Frozen with deadly horror, she stared with eyes of stone, 
And from her quivering lips there broke one wild, 

despairing moan. 
'T was he! the husband of her youth, now risen from 

the dead; 
But all too late — and with one bitter cry, her senses fled. 

What could be done? He was reported dead. On his 

return 
He strove in vain some tidings of his absent wife to 

learn ; 
T was well that he was innocent ! Else I 'd have 

killed him, too, 
So dead he never would have riz till Gabriel's trumpet 

blew! 

It was agreed that Mary then between us should decide, 
And each by her decision would sacredly abide. 
No sinner, at the judgment seat, waiting eternal doom, 
Could suffer what I did, while waiting sentence in that 
room. 

Rigid and breathless, there we stood, with nerves as 
tense as steel, 

While Mary's eye sought each white face, in piteous ap- 
peal. 

God! could not woman's duty be less hardly reconciled 

Between her lawful husband and the father of her child? 

Ah, how my heart was chilled to ice when she knelt 
down and said: 



76 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

"Forgive me, John! He is my husband! Here! Alive! 

not dead! " 
I raised her tenderly, and tried to tell her she was right, 
But somehow in my aching breast the prisoned words 

stuck tight! 

"But, John, I can 't leave baby" — "What! wife and 

child! " cried I; 
"Must I yield all! Ah, cruel fate! Better that I should die. 
Think of the long, sad, lonely hours, waiting in gloom 

for me — 
No wife to cheer me with her love — no babe to climb 

my knee! 

" And yet — you are her mother, and the sacred mother 

love 
Is still the purest, tenderesl tie that Heaven ever wove. 
Take her, but promise, Mary — for that will bring no 

shame — 
My little girl shall bear, and learn to lisp her father's 

name! " 

It may be, in the life to come, I '11 meet my child and wife; 
But yonder, by my cottage gate, we parted for this life; 
One long hand-clasp from Mary, and my dream of love 

was done! 
One long embrace from baby, and my happiness was 

gone ! 

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. 

MRS. HEMANS. 

The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his 

heart of fire, 
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned 

sire ; 
" I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive 

train, 






SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION J7 

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord! — Oh! break my 
father's chain! " 

" Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed 

man this day: 
Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on 

his way." — 
Then lightly rose that loyal sen, and bounded on his 

steed, 
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy 

speed. 

And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a 

glittering band, 
With one that 'midst thein stately rode, as a leader in 

the land; 
— " Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, 

is he, 
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so 

long to see. ' 

His dark eye flashed, — his proud breast heaved, — his 

cheeks hue came and went, — 
He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there 

dismounting bent; 
A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took — 
What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook? 

That hand was cold, — a frozen thing, — it dropped from 

his like lead, — 
He looked up to the face above, — the face was of the dead. 
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was 

fixed and white; — 
He met at last his father's eyes, — but in them was no 

sight ! 

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed; — but who 
could paint that gaze! 



78 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and 

amaze: — 
They might have chained him, as before that stony form 

he stood; 
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his 

lip the blood. 

11 "Father!" at Length he murmured low, and wept like 
childhood then — 

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears o^ war- 
like men! 

He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young 
renown, — 

He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat 
down. 

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly 

mournful brow, 
" No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword 

for now, — 
My king is false, my hope betrayed! My father — oh! the 

worth, 
The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from 

earth! 

" 1 thought to stand where banners waved, my sire! 

beside thee yet! — 
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil 

had met! — 
Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then; — for thee my 

fields were won; 
And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou 

hadst no son ! " 
Then starting from the ground once more, he seized 

the monarch's rein, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 79 

Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier 
train; 

And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war- 
horse led, 

And sternly set them face to face, — the king before the 
dead: — 



" Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to 

kiss? 
— Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what 

is this? 
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, 

where are they? 
— If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life 

through this cold clay! 



" Into these glassy eyes put light, — be still, keep down 

thine ire! — 
Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not 

my sire: — 
Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my 

blood was shed, — 
Thou canst not? — and a king! — his dust be mountains on 

thy head!" 



He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell; — upon the 

silent face 
He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned 

from that sad place: 
His hope was crushed, his after- fate untold in martial 

strain : 
His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of 

Spain. 



80 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 

HOOD. 

One more Unfortunate, 
Weary of breath, 

Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care; — 

Fashion'd so slenderly, 
Young and so fair! 

Look at her garments, 
Clinging like cerements; 

Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing; 

Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loathing. 

Touch her not scornfully, 
Think of her mournfully, 

Gently and humanly; 
Not of the stains of her, 
All that remains of her 

Now, is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny 

Rash and undutiful; 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on her 

Only the beautiful. 

Still, for all slips of hers, 
One of Eve's family — 

Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
Oozing so clammily; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION . 8l 

Loop up her tresses 

Escaped from the comb, 
Her fair auburn tresses; 
Whilst wonderment guesses 

Where was her home ? 

Who was her father? 
Who was her mother? 
Had she a sister? 
Had she a brother? 

Or was there a dearer 

One still, and a nearer 
Yet, than all other? 

Alas! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 

Under the sun! 
Oh! it was pitiful! 
Near a whole city full, 

Home she had none. 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
Fatherly, motherly, 

Feelings were changed; 
Love, by harsh evidence, 
Thrown from its eminence, 
Even God's providence 

Seeming estranged. 

Where the lamps quiver 
So far in the river, 

With many a light 
From window and casement, 
From garret to basement, 
She stood, with amazement, 

Houseless by night. 

The bleak winds of March 

Made her tremble and shiver; 



82 . SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

But not the dark arch, 

Or the black flowing- river: 

Mad from life's history, 

Glad to death's mystery 
Swift to be hurl'd— 

Anywhere, anywhere 
Out of the world! 

In she plunged boldly, 
No matter how coldly 

The rough river ran, — 
Over the brink of it, 
Picture it, — think of it, 

Dissolute man! 
Lave in it, drink of it 

Then, if you can! 

Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with care; 
Fashion'd so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair! 
Ere her limbs frigidly 
Stiffen so rigidly, 

Decently, — kindly, — • 
Smooth and compose them; 
And her eyes, close them, 

Staring so blindly! 

Dreadfully staring 

Through muddy impurity, 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 
Fixed on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 
Spurred by contumely, 

Cold inhumanity, 

Burning insanity, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 83 

Into her rest, — 

Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying- dumbly, ^ 

Over her breast! 

Owning her weakness, 

Her evil behavior, 

And leaving with meekness, ^ 

Her sins to her Saviour! 

ON BEING FOUND GUILTY OF HIGH TREASON. 

ROBERT EMMETT. 

What have I to say, why sentence of death should not 
be pronounced on me, according to law? I have noth- 
ing to say which can alter your predetermination, or 
that it would become me to say with any view to the 
mitigation of that sentence which you are here to pro- 
nounce, and which I must abide. But I have that to say 
which interests me more than life, and which you have 
labored — as was necessarily your office in the present 
circumstances of this oppressed country — to destroy. 
I have much to say, why my reputation should be 
rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny 
which has been heaped upon it. I do not imagine that, 
seated where you are, your minds can be so free from 
impurity as to receive the least impression from what I 
am going to utter. I have no hope that I can anchor 
my character in the breast of a Court constituted and 
trammelled as this is. I only wish, and it is the utmost 
I expect, that your Lordships may suffer it to float clown 
your memories, untainted by the foul breath of pre- 
judice, until it finds some more hospitable harbor, to 
shelter it from the rude storm by which it is at present 
buffeted. 

Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged 
guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and 



84 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

meet the fate that awaits me, without a murmur. But 
the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the 
executioner will, through the ministry of that law., 
labor, in its own vindication, to consign my character to 
obloquy: for there must be guilt somewhere, — whether 
in the sentence of the Court, or in the catastrophe, 
posterity must determine. A man in my situation, my 
Lords, has not only to encounter the difficulties of 
fortune, and the force of power over minds which it 
has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of 
established prejudice: — the man dies, but his memory 
lives: that mine may not perish, that it may live in the 
respect of my countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity 
to vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged 
against me. 

My Lords, it may be a part of the system of angry 
justice to bow a man's mind, by humiliation, to the 
purposed ignominy of the scaffold; but worse to me 
than the scaffold's shame, or the scaffold's terrors, 
would be the shame of such foul and unfounded im- 
putations as have been laid against me in this Court. 
You, my Lord, are a judge. I am the supposed culprit. 
I am a man, — you are a man also. By a revolution of 
power, we might change places, though we never could 
change characters. If I stand at the bar of this Court, 
and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is 
your justice! If I stand at this bar, and dare not vindi- 
cate my character, how dare you calumniate it? Does 
the sentence of death, which your unhallowed policy 
inflicts on my body, also condemn my tongue to silence, 
and my reputation to reproach? Your executioner may 
abridge the period of my existence; but, while I exist, I 
shall not forbear to vindicate my character and motives 
from your aspersions. As a man to whom fame is 
dearer than life, I will make the best use of that life in 
doing justice to that reputation which is to live after 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 85 

me, and which is the only legacy I can leave to those I 
honor and love, and for whom I am proud to perish. 
As men, my Lord, we must appear, on the great day, at 
one common tribunal; and it will then remain for the 
Searcher of all hearts to show a collective universe who 
are engaged in the most virtuous actions, or actuated by 
the purest motives,— my country's oppressors or myself. 
I am charged with being an emissary of France. An 
emissary of France! — and for what end? It is alleged 
that I wished to sell the independence of my country! 
And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition; 
and is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice 
reconciles contradictions? No! I am no emissary. 
My ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers 
of my country, — not in power, nor in profit, but in the 
glory of the achievement. Sell my country s independ- 
ence to France! And for what? For a change of 
masters? — No; but for ambition! 0, my country! was 
it personal ambition that could influence me? Had it 
been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my educa- 
tion and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my 
family, have placed myself among the proudest of your 
oppressors? My country was my idol. To it I sacri- 
ficed every selfish, every endearing sentiment; and for 
it I now offer up my life! God! No! my Lord; I 
acted as an Irishman determined on delivering my 
country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting 
tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic 
faction, its joint partner and perpetrator in the patri- 
cide, whose reward is the ignominy of existing with an 
exterior of splendor, and a consciousness of depravity. 
It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country 
from this doubly riveted despotism. I wished to place 
her independence beyond the reach of any power on 
earth. I wished to exalt her to that proud station in 
the world which Providence had fitted her to fill. 



86 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Connection with France was, indeed, intended; but 
only as far as mutual interest would sanction or require. 
Were the French to assume any authority inconsistent 
with the purest independence, it would be the signal 
for their destruction. We sought aid of them; and we 
sought it, as we had assurance we should obtain it, — as 
auxiliaries in war, and allies inj^eace. Were the PYench 
to come in as invaders or enemies, uninvited by the 
wishes of the People, I should oppose them to the ut- 
most of my strength. Yes, my countrymen, I would 
meet them on the beach, with a sword in one hand and 
a torch in the other. I would meet them with all the 
destructive fury of war; and I would animate you to im- 
molate them in their boats, before they had contaminated 
the soil. If they succeeded in landing, and if we were 
forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dis- 
pute every inch of ground, raze every house, burn 
every blade of grass before them, and the last entrench- 
ment of liberty should be my grave. 

I have been charged with that importance, in the ef- 
forts to emancipate my country, as to be considered the 
keystone of the combination of Irishmen, or, as your 
Lordship expressed it, "the life and blood of the con- 
spiracy." You do me honor overmuch. You have 
given the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There 
are men engaged in this conspiracy who are not only 
superior to me, but even to your own conceptions of 
yourself, my Lord; — men, before the splendor of whose 
genius and virtues I should bow with respectful defer- 
ence, and who would think themselves dishonored to be 
called your friends, — who would not disgrace themselves 
by shaking your blood-stained hand! [Here he was inter- 
rupted by Lord Norbury.] 

What, my Lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to 
the scaffold which that tyranny, of which you are only 
the intermediate minister, has erected for my murder, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION S? 

that I am accountable for all the blood that has been 
and will be shed, in this struggle of the oppressed 
against the oppressor? Shall you tell me this, and must 
I be so very a slave as not to repel it? I, who fear not 
to approach the Omnipotent Judge, to answer for the 
conduct of my short life, — am I to be appalled here, 
before a mere remnant of mortality? — by you, too, who, 
if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that 
you have caused to be shed, in your unhallowed minis- 
try, in one great reservoir, your Lordship might swim 
in it! [Here the Judge interfered.] 

Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with 
dishonor. Let no man attaint my memory by believing 
tnat I could have engaged in any cause but that of my 
country's liberty and independence, or that I could have 
become the pliant minion of power in the oppression and 
the miseries of my countrymen. The proclamation of the 
Provisional Government speaks for my views. No infer- 
ence can be tortured from it to countenance barbarity 
or debasement at home, or subjection, humiliation or 
treachery, from abroad. I would not have submitted 
to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that I would 
resist the domestic tyrant. In the dignity of freedom I 
would have fought upon the threshold of my country, 
and the enemy should enter only by passing over my 
lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for my country 
— who have subjected myself to the dangers of the jeal- 
ous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage of 
the grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and 
my country her independence, — am I to be loaded with 
calumny, and not suffered to resent it? No. God forbid! 

If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the 
concerns and cares of those who were dear to them in 
this transitory life, O, ever dear and venerated shade of 
my departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the 
conduct of your suffering son, and see if I have, even 



88 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

for a moment, deviated from those principles of moral- 
ity and patriotism which it was your care to instil into 
my youthful mind, and for which I am now to offer up 
my life! 

My Lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice. The 
blood for which you thirst is not congealed by the arti- 
ficial terrors which surround your victim; it circulates, 
warmly and unruffled, through the channels which God 
created for nobler purposes, but which you are bent to 
destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry to 
Heaven. Be ye patient! I have but a few words more 
to say. I am going to my cold and silent grave. My 
lamp of life is nearly extinguished. My race is run. 
The grave opens to receive me, — and I sink into its 
bosom! I have but one request to ask, at my departure 
from this world; — it is the charity of its silence. Let no 
man write my epitaph; for, as no man who knows my 
motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice 
or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in 
obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, 
until other times aiid other men can do justice to my 
character. When my country takes her place among 
the nations of the earth, — then, and not till then, — let 
my epitaph be written! I have done. 

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 

THOMAS GRAY. 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 89 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as, wandering near her sacred bower, 
Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care; 

No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; 

How jocund did they drive their team a- field! 

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
The short and simple annals of the poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 

Await alike the inevitable hour: — 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 

Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 



90 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Can storied urn or animated bust 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 

Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 

Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death? 

Perhaps, in this neglected spot is laid 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 

Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, 
Or waked to ecstacy the living lyre: 

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 

Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 

The dark un fathomed caves of ocean bear: 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The little tyrant of his fields withstood; 

Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest, 
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood 

The applause of listening senates to command, 
The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read their history in a nation's eyes, 

Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone 

Their grown virtues, but their crimes confined; 

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind: 

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 

Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 9 1 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learned to stray; 

Along the cool, sequestered vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect, 
Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply: 
And many a holy text around she strews, 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one long, lingering look behind? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

For thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead, 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; 

If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, — 
" Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn 

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 

" There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
1 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 



9 2 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 



" Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; 

Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn, 

Or crazed with care, or crossod in hopeless love. 

" One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill, 
Along the heath and near his favorite tree; 

Another came: nor yet beside the rill, 
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. 

" The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 

Slow through the church way path we saw him borne: 

Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth, 
A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown: 

Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 
And Melancholy marked him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
Heaven did a recompense as largely send: 

He gave to Misery all he had, — a tear, 

He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished), a friend. 

No farther seek his merits to disclose, 

Or draw his frailties from their dead abode, 

(There they alike in trembling hope repose), 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

ALERED TENNYSON. 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 



simplified Elocution 93 

" Forward the Light Brigade! 
Charge for the guns! " he said. 
Into the valley of death, 
Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade! " 
Was there a man dismayed? 
Not though the soldiers knew 

Some one had blundered: 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die: 
Into the valley of death, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them, 

Volleyed and thundered: 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well: 
Into the jaws of death, 
Into the mouth of hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flashed all their sabres bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sab'ring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered: 
Plunged in the battery smoke, 
Right through the line they broke: 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the saber-stroke, 

Shattered and sundered. 
Then they rode back — but not, 

Not the six hundred. 



94 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them, 

Volleyed and thundered: 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well, 
Came through the jaws of death, 
Back from the mouth of hell, 
All that was left of them, 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 
O, the wild charge they made! 

All the world wondered. 
Honor the charge they made! 
Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred! 

IRON HEARTS BETTER THAN IRON SHIPS. 

PHILIP LAWRENCE. 

One twenty-fourth of April, was a grandly glorious day, 
When Iron Ships and Iron Hearts met in a deadly fray. 
The crimson tints of morning were gleaming in the sky, 
As the gallant fleet moved on, the fate of war to try. 

In our noble oaken ships each man was at his gun, 
Every sailor's eye was sparkling for glory to be won; 
Although each heart beat faster, there was no thrill of 

fear, 
And to the foemen's shot and shell we answered with a 

cheer. 

Our dauntless vessel led the van, our captain we could 

see 
Spliced to the mast with knotted rope, a hero there sat 

he! 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 95 

He looked as calm as if it were a joyful festal day, 
And bade the helmsman steer the ship into the thickest 
fray. 

The iron ships of the enemy commenced the fierce 

attack, 
Their chain balls and their iron shot made our oaken 

timbers crack; 
We answered, not until we got right close up to the foe, 
When our brave captain shouted out, " Now, my boys, 

strike the blow." 

Then every gun poured out its fire: down deep their 

gunboat went, 
As if the lightning from the clouds its fiery bolts had sent, 
And where a stout ship was floating a little while before, 
Not a trace of her was seen, but the waves were red with 

gore. 

Against the next our ship was steered, and struck her 

amidship; 
Just as a wrestler grasps his foe and hurls him o'er his 

hip, 
So our steel pro wed vessel overthrew the iron plated foe, 
And o'er another sinking ship the rolling waves did now. 

Then the two fleets were mingled and fought the deadly 

fight: 
The smoke from the cannons' mouths hid the heavens 

from our sight, 
The thundering roar of mortars and the shrill shriek of 

shell, 
Like Pandemonium made the earth seem to resemble 

Hell. 

While the fight was fiercely raging, ere the victory was 

won, 
A shell stretched on the bloody deck the captain's little 

son: 



96 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

While the blood was pouring from his wounds his 

plaintive cry arose, 
"Oh heaven! I cannot fight again against my country's 

foes." 

When we saw our little hero fall each heart with grief 
was sore, 

Then every man rushed to his gun, and soon the can- 
non's roar 

Hurled death and ruin on the ioc, who scarcely could 
reply 

A feeble shout, to our loud cheers, ringing triumphantly! 

Before the day was over we had blotted out their fleet, 

For five we sunk, eleven we took, and made the rest re- 
treat; 

Of twenty ships with which the foe that day began the 
fight, 

But four eseaped, their battered hulls hid by the wings 
of night. 

Then glory to the gallant tars! the hoys who knew not 

fear, 
Hurrah for fair Columbia! who such gallant sons doth 

rear, 
Hurrah for the jolly sailors! who in spite of Death's 

keen darts, 
Proved that Iron Ships were useless when opposed by 

Iron Hearts. 

FITZ JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

The chief in silence strode before, 
And reached the torrent's sounding shore 
And here his course the chieftain stayed, 
Threw down his target and his plaid, 
And to the lowland warrior said:— 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 97 

" Bold Saxon! to his promise just, 
Vich- Alpine has discharged his trust; 
This murderous chief, this ruthless man, 
This head of a rebellious clan, 
Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, 
Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
Now, man to man, steel to steel, 
A chieftain's vengance thou shalt feel. 
See, here all vantageless I stand, 
Armed, like thyself, with single brand; 
For this is Coilantogle ford, 
And thou must keep thee with thy sword. 

The Saxon paused: — "I ne'er delayed, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade; 
Nay, more, brave chief, I vowed thy death; 
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
And my deep debt for life preserved, 
A better meed have well deserved: 

Can naught but blood our feud atone? 
And are there no means? " — " No, stranger, none! 
And here, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; 
For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 
Between the living and the dead: 
1 Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 
His party conquers in the strife.' " 
"Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 
"The riddle is already read; 
Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 
There lies Red Murdock,f stark and stiff. 
Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy, 
Then yield to Fate, and not to me; 



f Red Murdock was a faithless guide whom Fitz James 
had just before slain. 



9 8 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

To James, at Stirling 1 , let us go, 
When, if thou wilt, be still his foe; 
Or, if the king shall not agree 
To grant thee grace and favor free, 
I plight mine honor, oath, and word, 
That, to thy native strength restored, 
With each advantage shalt thou stand 
That aids thee now to guard thy land." 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye- 
" Soars thy presumption, then, so high 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dim? 
He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate. — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge! — 

Not yet prepared? — By Heaven I change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light, 
As that of some vain carpet knight, 
Who ill-deserved my courteous care, 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair!" 

" I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; 
For I have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein, 
Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone! — 
Yet think not that by thee alone, 
Proud chief ! can courtesy be shown. 

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
Of this small horn one feeble blast 
Would fearful odds against thee cast; 
But fear not— doubt not — which thou wilt, 
We '11 try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 99 

Then each at once, his falchion drew, 
Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, 
As what they ne'er might see again; 
Then, foot, and point, and eye opposed, 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 

Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside; 
For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz James's blade was sword and shield. 

He practised every pass and ward, 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; 
While less expert, though stronger far, 
The Gael maintained unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon sword drank blood. 

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 
And showered his blows like wint'ry rain, 
And, as firm rock, or castle roof, 
Against the winter shower is proof, 
The foe, invulnerable still, 
Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; 
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand, 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
And, backwards borne upon the lea, 
Brought the proud chieftain. to his knee, 

"Now yield thee, or, by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade! " 
" Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 
Let recreant yield who fears to die." 
Like adder darting from his coil, 
Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 



IOO SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Full at Fitz James's throat he sprung, 
Received, but reeked not of a wound, 
And looked his arms his foeman round.' 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 
No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! 
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 
Through bars of brass and triple steel! 
They tug, they strain; down, down they go, 
The Gael above, Fitz James below. 

The chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, 
His knee was planted on his breast; 
His clotted looks he backward threw, 
Across his brow his hand lie drew, 
From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! 

But hate and fury ill supplied 
The stream of life's exhausted tide, 
And all too late the advantage came, 
To turn the odds of deadly game; 
For while the dagger gleamed on high, 
Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye; 
Down came the blow! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
Un wounded from the dreadful close, 
But breathless all Fitz James arose. 

RICHELIEU AND FRANCE. 

SIR E. BUXWER LYTT0N. 

My liege, your anger can recall your trust, 
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, 
Rifle my coffers, but my name, — my deeds, — 
Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre. 
Pass sentence on me, if you will ! — from kings, 
L,o, I appeal to Time! Be just my liege. 
I found your kingdom rent with heresies, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION IOI 

And bristling with rebellion; — lawless nobles 
And breadless serfs; England fomenting discord, 
Austria, her clutch on your dominion; Spain 
Forging the prodigal gold of either Ind . 
To armed thunderbolts. The Arts lay dead; 
Trade rotted in your marts; your Armies mutinous, 
Your Treasury bankrupt. Would you now revoke 
Your trust, so be it! and I leave you, sole, 
Supremest monarch of the mightiest realm, 
From Ganges to the Icebergs. Look without — 
No foe not humbled! Look within, — the Arts 
Quit, for our schools, their old Hesperides, 
The golden Italy! while throughout the veins 
Of your vast empire flows in strengthening tides 
Trade, the calm health of nations ! Sire, I know 
That men have called me cruel; — 
I am not; — I am just! I found France rent asunder, 
The rich men despots, and the poor banditti; 
Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple; 
Brawls festering to rebellion; and weak laws 
Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. 
I have re-created France; and, from the ashes 
Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass, 
Civilization, on her luminous wings, 
Soars, phcenix-like, to Jove! What was my art? 
Genius, some say; some, Fortune; Witchcraft, some. 
Not so; — my art was Justice! 

THE ANGELS OF BEUNA VISTA. 

JOHN G. WHITTIER. 

Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far 

away, 
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array, 
Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come 

they near? 



102 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm 
we hear? 

" Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreats and now ad- 
vances! 

Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charg- 
ing lances! 

Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot 
together fall; 

Like a ploughshare in the fallow, through them ploughs 
the Northern ball." 

Nearer came the storm, and nearer, rolling fast and 

frightful on. 
Speak, Ximena, speak, and tell us who has lost and who 

has won; 
" Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall; 
O'er the dying rush thcliving; pray, my sisters, for them 
• all! 

" Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting; Blessed Mother, 

save my brain! 
I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps 

of slain; 
Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall, 

and strive to rise; 
Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lestthey~die before 

our eyes! 

"Oh, my heart's love! oh, my dear one! lay thy poor 

head on my knee; 
Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou 

hear me? Canst thou see? 
Oh, my husband, brave and gentle! oh, my Bernard, 

look once more 
On the blessed cross before thee! Mercy! mercy! all is 

o'er." 



Simplified elocution 103 

Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one down 

to rest; 
Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross ^rpon his 

breast; 
Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral masses 

said; 
To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid. 

Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a 

soldier lay, 
Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow 

his life away; 
But, as tenderly before him the lorn Ximena knelt, 
She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt. 

With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away 
her head; 

With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her 
dead; 

But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his strug- 
gling breath of pain, 

And she raised the cooling water to his parched lips 
again. 

Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand, and 

faintly smiled; 
Was that pitying face his mothers? did she watch 

beside her child? 
All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart 

supplied; 
With her kiss upon his forehead, " Mother! " murmured 

he, and died. 

" A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee 

forth 
From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weeping lonely, in 

the North!" 



104 simplified elocution 

Spake the mournful Mexic woman, as she laid him with 

her dead, 
And turned to soothe the living still, and bind the 

wounds which bled. 

Look forth once more, Ximena; " Like a cloud before 

the wind 
Rolls the battle down the mountains, leaving blood and 

death behind; 
Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the 

wounded strive; 
Hide your faces, holy angels! O, thou Christ of God, 

forgive." 

Sink, O Night, among thy, mountains! let the cool, gray 

shadows fall; 
Dying brothers, fighting demons, — drop thy curtain over 

all! 
Through the thickening winter twilight, wide apart the 

battle rolled, 
In its sheath the sabre rested, and the cannon's lips 

grew cold. 

But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, 
Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn, and 

faint, and lacking food; 
Over weak and suffering brothers with a tender care 

they hung, 
And the dying foemen blessed them in a strange and 

Northern tongue. 

Not wholly lost, O Father! is this evil world of ours; 
Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the 

Eden flowers; 
From its smoking hell of battle Love and Pity send 

their prayer. 
And still thy white- winged angels hover dimly in our air. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 105 

ANALYSIS OF POE'S RAVEN. 

PHILIP LAWRENCE. 

There is no poem in the English language whose real 
meaning has caused more diversity of opinion in the 
literary world than Poe's weird, fantastic, rhyth- 
mical poem, " The Raven." We will endeavor, with all 
due humility, to produce the key to unlock the mys- 
tery. 

Let us call to mind the story of Poe's youthful passion 
for a noble and pure-minded maiden, who died at the age 
of twenty years. When all her cherished hopes and as- 
pirations for the beloved one, whose fame was dearer to 
her than fortune, or even life itself, were blasted, and 
she discovered that, faithless to his promise of reforma- 
tion from his follies, he still remained on terms of inti- 
macy with low companions, she gave up all hope and 
died of a broken heart. 

This so affected the poet that, although he had never 
been unkind to her, either by word or deed, his chief 
fault in this case being deficiency of moral cour- 
age, his conscience whispered that he was morally 
guilty of her death, and for many years he could not 
shake off the depression of heart he felt whenever his 
thoughts went back to her whom he had loved and lost. 
The real meaning of the " Raven " is Remorse; and any 
one who aspires to the merit of reciting the poem cor- 
rectly must remember that when Poe says, "Quaff, oh 
quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore," 
he does not mean that he should drink of any beverage 
like the hemlock of Socrates, or a medicine to lull pain, 
but the nepenthe of the mind, Forgetfulness; because if 
he could forget Lenore he would be happy. 

We will now, as briefly as possible, describe the poem. 
Let us bear in mind that Poe was a spiritualist, and that 



106 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

the " Raven " is a spiritual narration. The poet was sit- 
ting in his study late at night, and had been reading, not 
books for amusement, or even instruction, but tales 
of Egyptian mysteries, (old forgotten lore) that told of 
the invocation of spirits from the tomb. Hearing a 
slight noise, and his imagination being exeited by what 
he had been reading, he thought, " Can that be a spirit 
at the door, or did I only fancy I heard a noise? " En- 
deavoring to shake off his fears, he tried to persuade 
himself that it was only some friend or visitor calling at 
that late hour. His thoughts then recurred to that 
loved being whose body was in the earth, but whose 
spirit had ascended to its kindred in heaven, and had 
received a new name in the spiritual world. Her name 
was Alice while on earth, btit she was now re-named 
Lenore. 

His imagination being so fully excited, even the rust- 
ling of the curtain thrilled him and filled him with the 
most fantastic terror; so that to reassure his heart he 
tried to convince himself that it was only a friend at the 
door, and he addresses the supposed visitor, and begs 
pardon for not answering the request for admission. 
He then throws the door wide open, and, to his surprise, 
he can neither see any one, or even hear the rustling of 
the garment of a person retiring. Standing still, and for a 
long time peering into the darkness, full of wonder, fear 
and doubt, his thoughts recur to the loved one who every 
evening would come to his study, and with her gentle 
voice soothe his cares, and encourage him to persevere 
in his noble struggle for fame. Forgetting that she is 
dead, he, in a low tone of voice utters the name 
"Lenore; " no real voice replies, but his heart answers, 
like an echo, that Lenore is dead, and will return no 
more. He then, with his soul burning within him, re- 
turns into his chamber, and again fancies he hears the 
knocking; but this time it appears to proceed from the 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION [ I07 

window, and he throws it wide open, when, to his intense 
astonishment, a ghostly bird, in the shape of a Raven, 
enters the room, and, without noticing the poet in any 
way, perches itself upon a bust of the goddess Pallas, 
that was placed over the door of the chamber. He ad- 
dresses the bird, and requests it to tell him its name. 
The bird answers, Nevermore. He marvels at the 
answer given, but thinks there can be no meaning in it, 
and mutters to himself that other freinds have fled be- 
fore, and that on the morrow this new friend will also 
leave him. But when the bird replies that it will 
never do so, he is startled at receiving such an apt re- 
ply to his remark. He then seats himself upon the 
couch where he had passed so many happy hours of 
intellectual enjoyment with the loving maiden who 
cheered his lonely lot with her smiles, and wondered 
what the bird meant by croaking Nevermore. 

Realizing all he had lost when Lenore died, and full 
of remorse, he imagines that the air becomes denser, 
and that the footsteps of the angels are audible around 
him. He then bids his heart take courage, because 
God has sent him the blessing of forgetfulness. But 
the Raven tells him tnat he is mistaken. He appeals to 
the bird, and acknowledges that it is a prophet, and 
asks it if he truly repents will he not be forgiven. The 
Raven answers, Never. He then implores the bird to 
inform him if he shall be reunited in the land of spirits 
to the maiden he adores. The Raven replies, No! Full 
of indignation at the reply, so contrary to the teachings 
of Christianity, he denounces the bird, and tells it to 
take its beak from out his heart, and return to the 
kingdom of darkness from whence it came. The bird 
replies that it will never leave him. Imagining that he 
must have committed the unpardonable sin, he gives 
way to the anguish of his soul; and in the deepest de- 
spondency he feels that the Raven, or Remorse, will be 



lo8 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

sitting upon his heart forever, and that his soul will 
never be lifted from utter despair. 

Some elocutionists, in their rendition of the poem, do 
not grasp the real meaning of the poet; they recite it as 
if all they describe is a literal fact, and that while Poe is 
in his chamber a real bird enters at the window and con- 
verses with him. The proof of this assertion is to be 
found in their manner of delivery of the last verse of the 
poem; for when they say, (after imploring the Raven to 
take its beak from out their heart) 

" But the Raven, never flitting, 
Still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas, 
Just above my chamber door," 

They point to the bust of Pallas over the door of the 
chamber, instead cf placing their hands upon the breast, 
and pressing them convulsively against the region of 
the heart, thus explaining to the audience that Remorse 
is there. Their error must be manifest to every intelli- 
gent mind for this reason: If the Raven remained 
sitting upon the bust of Pallas over the door of the 
chamber, Poe had but to leave the •room, and, bidding 
the bird good-night, walk away in peace and tranquillity 
of mind, leaving his tormentor behind him. On the 
contrary, if the Spiritual Bird, or Remorse, was sitting 
upon the spiritual bust of Pallas, then the undying beak 
of the bird would, like the Vulture of Prometheus, 
devour all the aspirations of his soul, and make a chaos 
of his mind. 

The exquisite art of the poet is nowhere more evident 
than in his description of the Raven sitting upon the 
bust of Pallas, as he thus gradually enables the intelli- 
gent and inquiring mind to grasp its spiritual and real 
meaning. If he had described the bird as first alighting 
upon his breast and plunging its beak into his heart, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION IO9 

then depicted it as perched upon the bust of Pallas over 
the door of his chamber, the description would have 
been incorrect, because remorse does not affect the 
heart until it has afflicted the mind. The first visitation 
of this awful guest would be to the brain; then, when 
convinced of the truth of its accusations, the anguish of 
the heart would follow 

Any painter illustrating this grand poem should 
depict the Raven sitting upon the bust of Pallas over 
the door of the chamber, all through the poem, with 
the exception of the last two verses. On the last verse 
but one it should be represented tearing with its beak 
at the poet's breast; and on the last verse as perched 
upon his heart and brooding over it. 

THE RAVEN. 

EDGAR ALLEN POE. 

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I ponder'd, weak and 

weary, 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten 

lore, — 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a 

tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber 

door. 
" 'T is some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber 

door — 

Only this, and nothing more. 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon 

the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to 

borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost 

Eenore — 



HO SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 
Lenore — 

Nameless here forevermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple 

curtain, 
Thrill'd me, — fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt 

before; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood 

repeating, 
"T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber 

door, — 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber 

door; 

That it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no 
longer, 

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I im- 
plore; 

But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came 
rapping, 

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber 
door, 

That I scarce was sure I heard you " — here I open'd wide 
the door, 

Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, 

wondering, fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to 

dream before; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no 

token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word, 

" Lenore!" 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION III 

This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word, 
"LENOREl" 

Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me 
burning, 

Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than 
before. 

<< Surely," said I, i ( surely that is something at my window 
lattice ; 

Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery ex- 
plore, — 

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery ex- 
plore: 

'T is the wind, and nothing more." 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt 
and flutter, 

In there stepp'd a stately raven of the saintly days of 
yore. 

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopp'd 
or stay'd he; 

But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my cham- 
ber door, — 

Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber 
door — 

Perched and sat and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it 

wore, 
" Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, 

" art sure no craven; 
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the 

nightly shore, 



112 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Pluto- 
nian shore? " 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore! " 

Much I marvell'd this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so 
plainly, 

Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 

Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber 
door — 

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his cham- 
ber door, 

With such name as " Nevermore." 

But the raven sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 

That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did out- 
pour. 

Nothing further then he utter'd — not a feather then he 
flutter'd— 

Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, " Other friends have 
flown before — 

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown 
before." 

Then the bird said, " Nevermore!" 

Startled at the stillness, broken by reply so aptly spoken, 

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and 
store, 

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful 
disaster 

Follow'd fast and follow'd faster, till his songs one bur- 
den bore, 

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore, 
Of — Never — nevermore! " 

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, 
Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and 
bust, and door. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 113 

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to link- 
ing 

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of 
yore — 

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous 
bird of yore 

Meant in croaking " Nevermore!" 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable express- 
ing 

To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my 
bosom's core. 

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease^ re- 
clining 

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated 
o'er, 

But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloat- 
ing o'er, 

She shall press — ah! nevermore! 

Then rneth ought the air grew denser, perfumed from 

an unseen censer 
Swung by seraphim, whose foot-falls tinkled on the 

tufted floor. 
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these 

angels he hath sent thee 
Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of 

Lenore! 
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this 

lost Lenore! " 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore! " 

"Prophet! " said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird 

or devil! 
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest toss'd thee 

here ashore, 



114 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land en- 
chanted — 

On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I im- 
plore — 

Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I 
implore!" 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore! " 

" Prophet! " said I, " thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird 

or devil! 
By that heaven that bends above us — by that God we 

both adore, 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant 

Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name 

Lenore; 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name 

Lenore! " 

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" 

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! " I 
shriek'd, upstarting — 

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Pluto- 
nian shore! 

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath 
spoken! 

Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above 
my door! 

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form 
from off my door! " 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore! " 

But the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is 
dreaming, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION [ 1 1 5 

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his 

shadow on the floor; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on 

the floor 

Shall be lifted — nevermore! 

THE BELLS. 

EDGAR ALLEN POE. 

Hear the sledges with the bells — 
Silver bells — 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night! 
While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seemed to twinkle 

With a crystalline delight; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells— 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding-bells, 
Golden bells! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight! 
From the molten-golden notes, 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon! 
Oh, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! 



Il6 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

How it swells! 
How it dwells 
On the Future! how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 
Of the bells, bells, bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- 
Bells, bells, bells— 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 

Hear the loud alarum bells — 
Brazen bells! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! 
In the startled car of night 
How they scream out their affright! 
Too much horrified to speak, 
They can only shriek, shriek, 
Out of tune, 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 
Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavor, 
Now — now to sit or never, 
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! 
What a tale their terror tells 

Of despair! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air! 
Yet the ear, it fully knows, 
By the twanging 
And the clanging, 
How the danger ebbs and flows; 
Yet the ear distinctly tells, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 17 

In the jangling 
And the wrangling, 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — 
Of the bells— 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! 

Hear the tolling of the bells — 
Iron bells! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! 
In the silence of the night, 
How we shiver with affright 
At the melancholy menace of their tone! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the people — ah, the people — 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone — 
They are neither man nor woman — = 
They are neither brute nor human— 

They are Ghouls: 
And their king it is who tolls; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, 
A paean from the bells! 
And his merry bosom swells 
With the paean of the bells! 
And he dances and he yells; • 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 



Il8 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

To the paean of the bells — 
Of the bells; 

Keeping time, time, time, 

In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the. throbbing- of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, 
To the sobbing of the bells; 

Keeping time, time, time, 
As he knells, knells, knells, 

In a happy Rimic rhyme, 
To the rolling of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells— 
To'the tolling of the bells, 
Of 'the bells, bells, bells, bells- 
Bells, bells, bells, 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

EXCKLSIOR. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior! 

His brow was sad; his eye, beneath, 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath; 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, 
Excelsior! 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright: 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone: 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
. Excelsior! 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION II9 

tl Try not the pass! " the old man said; 
" Dark lowers the tempest overhead; 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide! " — 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 
Excelsior! 

" Oh! stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast! " 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye; 
But still he answered, with a sigh, 
Excelsior! 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! 
Beware the awful avalanche!" 
This was the peasant's last good-night; — 
A voice replied, far up the hight, 
Excelsior! 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of St. Bernard 
Uttered the oft repeated prayer, 
A voice cried, through the startled air, 
Excelsior! 

A traveller, — by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow, was found, 
Still grasping, in his hand of ice, 
The banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior! 

There, in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, — >j 
Excelsior! 



120 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

THE FAMINE. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

O the long and dreary Winter! 
O the eold and cruel Winter! 
Ever thicker, thicker, thicker, 

Froze the iee on lake and river; 
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper, 

Fell the snow o'er all the landscape, 
Fell the covering snow, and drifted 
Through the forest, round the village. 
Hardly from his buried wigwam 
Conld the hunter force a passage; 
With his mittens and his snow-shoes 
Vainly walk'd he through the forest, 
Sought for bird or beast and found none; 
Saw no track of deer or rabbit, 
In the snow beheld no footprints, 
In the ghastly, gleaming forest 
Fell, and could not rise from weakness, 
Perish'd there from cold and hunger. 

O the famine and the fever! 

O the wasting of the famine! 

O the blasting of the fever! 

O the wailing of the children! 

O the anguish of the women! 

All the earth was sick and famish'd; 

Hungry was the air around them, 

Hungry was the sky above them, 

And the hungry stars in heaven 

Like the eyes of wolves glared at them! 

Into Hiawatha's wigwam 

Came two other guests, as silent 

As the ghosts were, and as gloomy, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 121 

Waited not to be invited, 
Did not parley at the doorway, 
Sat there without word of welcome 
In the seat of Laughing Water; 
Looked with haggard eyes and hollow 
At the face of Laughing Water. 
And the foremost said: " Behold me! 
I am Famine, Bukadawin! " 
And the other said: " Behold me! 
I am Fever, Ahkosewin! " 
And the lovely Minnehaha 
Shudder'd as they look'd upon her, 
Shudder'd at the words they utter'd, 
Lay down on her bed in silence, 
Hid her face, but made no answer; 
Lay there trembling, freezing, burning 
At the looks they cast upon her, 
At the fearful words they utter'd. 

Forth into the empty forest 

Rush'd the madden 'd Hiawatha; 

In his heart was deadly sorrow, 

In his face a stony firmness, 

On his brow the sweat of anguish 

Started, but it froze and fell not. 

Wrapp'd in furs and arm'd for hunting, 

With his mighty bow of ash-tree, 

With his quiver full of arrows, 

With his mittens, Minjekahwun, 

Into the vast and vacant forest 

On his snow-shoes strode he forward. 

"Gitche Manito, the Mighty!" 

Cried he with his face uplifted 

In that bitter hour of anguish, 

" Give your children food, O Father! 

Give us food, or we must perish! 



122 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Give me food for Minnehaha, 
For my dying Minnehaha!" 
Through the far-resounding forest, 
Through the forest vast and vacant 
Rang that cry of desolation, 
But there came no other answer 
Than the echo of his crying-, 
Than the echo of the woodlands, 
"Minnehaha! Minnehaha! " 

All day long roved Hiawatha 

In that melancholy forest, 

Through the shadow of whose thickets, 

In the pleasant days of Summer, 

Of that ne'er forgotten Summer, 

He had brought his young wife homeward 

From the land of the Dakotahs; 

When the birds sang in the thickets, 

And the streamlets laugh'd and glisten'd, 

And the air was full of fragrance, 

And the lovely Laughing Water 

Said with voice that did not tremble, 

" I will follow you, my husband! " 

In the wigwam with Nokomis, 

With those gloomy guests that watch'd her, 

With the Famine and the Fever, 

She was lying, the Beloved, 

She the dying Minnehaha. 

" Hark! " she said, " I hear a rushing, 

Hear a roaring and a rushing, 

Hear the Falls of Minnehaha 

Calling to me from a distance! " 

11 No, my child! " said old Nokomis, 

" 'Tis the night-wind in the pine-trees! " 

« Look! " she said; " I see my father 

Standing lonely at his doorway, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 23 

Beckoning to me from his wigwam 

In the land of the Dakotahs! " 

" No, my child! " said old Nokomis, 

" 'T is the smoke. that waves and beckons!" 

" Ah! " she said, " the eyes of Pauguk 
Glare upon me in the darkness, 
I can feel his icy fingers 
Clasping mine amid the darkness! 
Hiawatha! Hiawatha! " 
And the desolate Hiawatha, 
Far away amid the forest, 
Miles away among the mountains, 
Heard that sudden cry of anguish, 
Heard the voice of Minnehaha 
Calling to him in the darkness, 
"Hiawatha! Hiawatha!" 

Over snow-fields waste and pathless, 
Under snow-encumber'd branches, 
Homeward hurried Hiawatha, 
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted, 
Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing: 
" Wahonowin! Wahonowin! 
Would that I had perish'd for you, 
Would that I were dead as you are! 
Wahonowin! Wahonowin!" 
And he rush'd into the wigwam, 
Saw the old Nokomis slowly 
Rocking to and fro and moaning, 
Saw his lovely Minnehaha 
Lying dead and cold before him, 
And his bursting heart within him 
Utter'd such a cry of anguish, 
That the forest moan'd and shuddered, 
That the very stars in heaven 
Shook and trembled with his anguish, 



124 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Then he sat down still and speechless, 
On the bed of Minnehaha, 
At the feet of Laughing Water, 
At those willing feet, that never 
More would lightly run to meet him, 
Never more would lightly follow. 
With both hands his face he cover'd, 
Seven long days and nights he sat there, 
As if in a swoon he sat there, 
Speechless, motionless, unconscious 
Of the daylight or the darkness. 

Then they buried Minnehaha; 
In the snow a grave they made her, 
In the forest deep and darksome, 
Underneath the moaning hemlocks; 
Clothed her in her richest garments; 
Wrapp'd her in her robes of ermine, 
Cover'd her with snow, like ermine: 
Thus they buried Minnehaha. 
And at night a fire was lighted, 
On her grave four times was kindled, 
For her soul upon its journey 
To the Islands of the Blessed. 
From his doorway Hiawatha 
Saw it burning in the forest, 
Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks; 
From his sleepless bed uprising, 
From the bed of Minnehaha, 
Stood and watch'd it at the doorway, 
That it might not be extinguish'd, 
Mieht not leave her in the darkness. 

o 

"Farewell!" said he, " Minnehaha! 
Farewell, O my Laughing Water! 
All my thoughts go onward with you! 
Come not back again to labor, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 125 

Come not back again to suffer, 
Where the Famine and the Fever 
Wear the heart and waste the body. 
Soon my task will be completed, 
Soon your footsteps I shall follow 
To the Islands of the Blessed, 
To the Kingdom of Ponemah, 
To the land of the Hereafter! " 

GAMBLER'S WIFE. 

COATES. 
Dark is the night! How dark! No light: No fire! 
Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire! 
Shivering, she watches, by the cradle side, 
For him, who pledged her love — last year a bride! 

" Hark! 'T is his footstep! No! — 't is past! — 't is gone! " 
Tick! — Tick! — " How wearily the time crawls on! 
Why should he leave me thus? — He once was kind! 
And I believed 'twould last! — How mad! — How blind! 

" Rest thee, my babe! — Rest on! — 'T is hunger's cry! 
Sleep! — For there 's no food! — The font is dry! 
Famine and cold their wearying work have done. 
My heart must break! And thou! " The clock strikes one. 

"Hush! 'tis the dice-box! Yes! he 's there! he 's there! 
For this — for this he leaves me to despair! 
Leaves love! leaves truth! his wife! his child! for what? 
The wanton's smile — the villain — and the sot! 

"Yet I '11 not curse him. No! 'tis all in vain! 

'T is long to wait, but sure he '11 come again! 

And I could starve, and bless him, but for you, 

My child! — his child! Oh, fiend! " The clock strikes two. 

"Hark! How the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by. 
Moan! moan! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky! 



126 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Ha! 'tis his knock! he comes! — he comes once more!'* 
'T is but the lattice flaps! Thy hope is o'er! 

" Can he desert us thus? He knows I stay, 
Night after night, in loneliness, to pray 
For his return — and yet he sees no tear! 
No! no! It cannot be! He will be here! 

" Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart! 

Thou 'rt cold! Thou 'rt freezing! But we will not part! 

Husband! — I die — Father! — It is not he! 

O, God! protect my child!" The clock strikes three! 

They 're gone, they 're gone! the glimmering spark hath 

fled!— 
The wife and child are number'd with the dead. 
On the cold earth, outstretch'd in solemn rest, 
The babe lay, frozen on its mother's breast: 
The gambler came at last — but all was o'er — 
Dread silence reigned around: — the clock struck four! 

SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY. 

Mr. President, — it is natural to man to indulge in 
the illusions of Hope. We are apt to shut our eyes 
against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that 
siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the 
part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous strug- 
gle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number 
of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, 
hear not, the things which so nearly concern our tem- 
poral salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of 
spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, 
— to know the worst, and to provide for it! 

I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided; 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
of judging of the future but by the past. And, judging 
by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 12J 

conduct of the British Ministry, for the last ten years, 
to justify those hopes with which Gentlemen have been 
pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it that 
insidious smile with which our petition has been lately 
received? Trust it not, Sir; it will prove a snare to 
your feet! Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a 
kiss! Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of 
our petition comports with those warlike preparations 
which cover our waters and darken our land. Are 
fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and recon- 
ciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be 
reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our 
love? 

Let us not deceive ourselves, Sir. These are the im- 
plements of war and subjugation, — the last arguments 
to which Kings resort. I ask Gentlemen, Sir, what 
means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force 
us to submission? Can Gentlemen assign any other 
possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy 
in this quarter of the world, to call for this accumula- 
tion of navies and armies? No, Sir, she has none. They 
are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They 
are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those 
chains which the British Ministry have been so long 
forging. And what have we to oppose to them? — Shall 
we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the 
last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the 
subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in 
every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in 
vain. 

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? 
What terms shall we find which have not already been 
exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, Sir, deceive our- 
selves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could 
be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. 
We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have 



128 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the 
Throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
the tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. 
Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult, our sup- 
plications have been disregarded, and we have been 
spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the Throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond 
hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer 
any room for hope. If we wish to be free, — if we mean 
to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for 
which we have been so long contending, — if we mean 
not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we 
have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged 
ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of 
our contest shall be obtained, — we must fight; I repeat 
it, Sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the 
God of Hosts, is all that is left us! 

They tell us, Sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be 
stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will 
it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British 
guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather 
strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire 
the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on 
our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, 
until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? 
Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those 
means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
power. 

Three millions of People, armed in the holy cause of 
liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, 
are invincible by any force which our enemy can send 
against us. Besides, Sir, we shall not fight our battles 
alone. There is a just God who presides over the desti- 
nies of Nations, and who will raise up friends to fight 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 29 

our battles for us. The battle, Sir, is not to the strong 
alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. 
Besides, Sir, we have no election. If we were base 
enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. There is no retreat but in submission and 
slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clinking may 
be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inev- 
itable; and let it come! I repeat it, Sir, let it come! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, peace, peace! — but there is no peace. The war 
is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the 
North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding 
arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why 
stand we here idle? What is it that Gentlemen wish? 
What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so 
sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what 
course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, 
or give me death! 

THE ENGINEER'S STORY. 

No, children, my trips are over, 

The engineer needs rest; 
My hand is shaky; I 'm feeling 

A tugging pain i' my breast; 
But here, as the twilight gathers, 

1 '11 tell you a tale of the road, 
That '11 ring in my head forever, 

Till it rests beneath the sod. 

We were lumbering along in the twilight, 
The night was dropping her shade, 

And the "Gladiator" labored — 
Climbing the top of the grade; 

The train was heavily laden, 
Sc I let my engine rest, 



I30 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Climbing the grading- slowly, 

Till we reached the upland's crest. 

I held my watch to the lamplight — 

Ten minutes behind the time! 
Lost in the slackened motion 

Of the up grade's heavy climb; 
But I knew the miles of the prairie 

That stretched a level track, 
So I touched the gauge of the boiler, 

And pulled the lever back. 

Over the rails a-gleaming, 

Thirty an hour, or so, 
The engine leaped like a demon, 

Breathing a fiery glow; 
But to me — a-hold of the lever — 

It seemed a child alway, 
Trustful and always ready 

My lightest touch to obey. 

I was proud, you know, of my engine, 
Holding it steady that night, 

And my eye on the track before us, 

Ablaze with the Drummond light. 

We neared a well-known cabin, 
Where a child of three or four; 

As the up train passed, oft called me, 
A-playing around the door. 

My hand was firm on the throttle 

As we swept around the curve, 
When something afar in the shadow, 

Struck fire through every nerve. 
I sounded the brakes, and crashing 

The reverse lever down in dismay, 
Groaning to Heaven — eighty paces 

Ahead was the child at its play! 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 131 

One instant — one, awful and only, 

The world flew round in my brain, 
And I smote my hand hard on my forehead 

To keep back the terrible pain; 
The train 1 though c flying forever, 

With mad irresistible roll, 
While the cries of the dying, the night wind 

Swept into my shuddering soul. 

Then I stood on front of the engine, — 

How I got there I never could tell, — 
My feet planted down on the crossbar, 

Where the cowcatcher slopes to the rail, 
One hand firmly locked on the coupler, 

And one held out in the night, 
While my eye gauged the distance, and measured 

The speed of our slackening flight. 

My mind, thank the Lord! it was steady; 

I saw the curls of her hair, 
And the face that, turning in wonder, 

Was lit by the deadly glare. 
I know little more — but I heard it — 

The groan of the anguished wheels, 
And remember thinking — the engine 

In agony trembles and reels. 

One rod! To the day of my dying 

I shall think the old engine reared back, 
And as it recoiled with a shudder, 

I swept my hand over the track; 
Then darkness fell over my eyelids, 

But 1 heard the surge of the train, 
And the poor old engine creaking, 

As racked by a deadly pain. 



132 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

They found us, they said, on the gravel, 

My fingers enmeshed in her hair, 
And she on my bosom a-climbing, 

To nestle securely there. 
We are not much given to crying — 

We men that run on the road — 
But that night, they said, there were faces, 

With tears on them, lifted to God. 

For years in the eve and the morning 

As I neared the cabin again, 
My hand on the lever pressed downward 

And slackened the speed of the train. 
When my engine had blown her greeting, 

She always would come to the door; 
And her look with a fullness of heaven 

Blesses me evermore. 

INDEPENDENCE BELL— JULY 4, 1776. 

There was tumult in the city, 

In the quaint old Quaker town, 
And the streets were rife with people 

Pacing restless up and down — 
People gathering at the corners, 

Where they whispered each to each, 
And the sweat stood on their temples' 

With the earnestness of speech. 

As the bleak Atlantic currents 

Lash the wild Newfoundland shore, 
So they beat against the State House, 

So they surged against the door; 
And the mingling of their voices 

Made a harmony profound, 
Till the quiet street of Chestnut 

Was all turbulent with sound. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 33 

Far aloft in that high steeple . 

Sat the bellman, old and gray; 
He was weary of the tyrant 

And his iron-sceptred sway. 
So he sat, with one hand ready 

On the clapper of th e bell, 
When his eye could catch the signal, 

The long-expected news to tell. 

See! See! The dense crowd quivers 

Through all its lengthy line, 
As the boy beside the portal 

Hastens forth to give the sign! 
With his little hands uplifted, 

Breezes dallying with his hair, 
Hark! with deep, clear intonation, 

Breaks his young voice on the air: 

Hushed tke people's swelling murmur, 
Whilst the boy cries joyously; 
"Ring!" he shouts, " Ring! grandpapa, 

Ring! oh, ring for Liberty! " 
Quickly, at the given signal 

The old bellman lifts his hand, 
Forth he sends the good news, making 

Iron music through the land. 

How they shouted! What rejoicing! 

How the old bell shook the air, 
Till the clang of freedom ruffled 

The calmly gliding Delaware! 
How the bonfires and the torches 

Lighted up the night's repose, 
And from the names, like fabled Phoenix, 

Our glorious liberty arose! 



134 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

That old State House bell is silent, 

Hushed is now its clamorous tongue; 
But the spirit it awaken'd 

Still is living — ever young; 
And when we greet the smiling sunlight 

On the Fourth of each July, 
We will ne'er forget the bellman 

Who betwixt the earth and sky, 
Rung out, loudly, " Independence;" 

Which, please God, shall never die! 

LINES ON A SKELETON. 

Behold this ruin! 'T was a skull 

Once of ethereal spirit full. 

This narrow cell was Life's retreat, 

This space was Thought's mysterious seat. 

What beauteous visions filled this spot! 

What dreams of pleasure long forgot! 

Nor Hope, nor Joy, nor Love, nor Fear, 

Have left one trace of record here. 

Beneath this moldering canopy, 

Once shone the bright and busy eye; 

But start not at the dismal void — 

If social love that eye employed, 

If with no lawless fire it gleamed, 

But through the dews of kindness beamed, 

That eye shall be forever bright 

When stars and sun are sunk in night. 

Within this hollow cavern hung 

The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue. 

If falsehood's honey it disdained, 

And when it could not praise, was chained, 

If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke, 

Yet gentle concord never broke! 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 135 

This silent tongue shall plead for thee 
When Time unvails Eternity. 

Say, did these fingers delve the mine? 
Or with the envied rubies shine? 
To hew the rock or wear the gem 
Can little now avail to them. 
But if the page of truth they sought, 
Or comfort to the mourner brought, 
These hands a richer meed shall claim 
Than all that wait on Wealth or Fame. 

Avails it, whether, bare or shod, 
These feet the paths of duty trod? 
If from the bowers of Ease they fled, 
To seek Affliction's humble shed; 
If Grandeur's guilty bride they spurned, 
And home to Virtue's cot returned, 
These feet with angels' wings shall vie, 
And tread the palace of the sky. 

SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT CAPUA. 
ELIJAH KELLOGG. 

It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, 
returning with victorious eagles, had amused the popu- 
lace with the sports of the amphitheatre, to an extent 
hitherto unknown even in that luxurious city. The 
shouts of revelry had died away; the roar of the lion 
had ceased; the last loiterer had retired from the ban- 
quet; and the lights in the palace of the victor were 
extinguished, 

The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered 
the dew-drops on the corslet of the Roman sentinel, 
and tipped the dark waters of the Vulturnus with a 
wavy, tremulous light. No sound was heard save the 
last sob of some retiring wave, telling its story to the 



I36 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

smooth pebbles of the beach; and then all was still as 
the breast when the spirit has departed. 

In the deep recesses of the amphitheatre, a band of 
gladiators were assembled, — their muscles still knotted 
with the agony of conflict, the foam upon their lips, the 
scowl of battle vet lingering on their brows, — when 
Spartacus, starting forth from amid the throng, thus 
addressed them: 

11 Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him ehief, 

who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena 

every shape of man or beast the broad empire of Rome 

could furnish, and who never vet lowered his arm. If 

# 

there be one among you who van say that ever, in public 
fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, 
let him stand forth, and say it. If there be three in 
all your company dare face me on the bloody sands, let 
them come on. 

11 And yet, I was not always thus, — a hired butcher, a 
savage ehief of still more savage men! My ancestors 
came from old Sparta, and settled among the vine-clad 
rocks and citron groves of vSyrasella. My early life ran 
quiet as the brooks by which I sported: and when, at 
noon, I gathered the sheep beneath the shade, and 
played upon the shepherd's flute, there was a friend, the 
son of a neighbor, to join me in the pastime. We led 
our flocks to the same pasture, and partook together 
our rustic meal. 

" One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we 
were all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our 
cottage, my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Mara- 
thon and Leuctra, and how, in ancient times, a little 
band of Spartans, in a defile of the mountains, had with- 
stood a whole army. I did not then know what war was; 
but my cheek burned, I knew not why, and Iclasped the 
knees of that venerable man, till my mother, parting the 
hair from off my forehead, kissed my throbbing temples, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 137 

and bade me go to rest, and think no more of those old 
tales and savage wars. 

11 That very night the Romans landed on our coast. 
I saw the breast that had nourished me trampled by the 
hoof of the war-horse; the bleeding body of my father 
flung amidst the blazing rafters of our dwelling! 
To-day I killed a man in the arena; and when I broke 
his helmet-clasps, behold! he was my friend. He knew 
me, — smiled faintly, — gasped, — and died; — the same 
sweet smile upon his lips that I had marked, when, in 
adventurous boyhood, we scaled some lofty cliff to pluck 
the first ripe grapes, and bear them home in childish 
triumph. 

"I told the praetor that the dead man had been my 
friend, generous and brave; and I begged that I might 
beer away the body, to burn it on a funeral pile, and 
maiiix over its ashes. Ay! upon my knees, amid the 
dust and blood of the arena, I begged that poor boon, 
while all the assembled maids and matrons, and the 
hoiy virgins they call Vestals, and the rabble, shouted 
in derision, deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see 
Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale and tremble at the 
sight of that piece of bleeding clay! And the praetor 
drew back as I were pollution, and sternly said, — 'Let 
the carrion rot; there are no noble men but Romans! ' 
And so, fellow-gladiators, must you, and so must I, die 
like dogs. 

"O Rome! Rome! thou hast been a tender nurse to 
mej Ay, thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid 
shepherd lad, who never knew a harsher tone than a 
flute-note, muscles of iron and a heart of flint: taught 
him to drive the sword through plaited mail and links 
of rugged brass, and warm it in the marrow of his foe! 
— to gaze into the glaring eye-balls of the fierce Numid- 
ian lion, even as a boy upon a laughing girl! And he 
shall pay thee back, till the yellow Tiber is red as froth- 



I38 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

ing wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies 
curdled! 

J< Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are! The 
strength cf brass is in your toughened sinews; but to- 
morrow some Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume 
from his curly locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your 
red brawn, and bet his sesterces upon your blood! 
Hark! hear ye yon lion roaring in his den? 'T is three 
days since he tasted flesh; but to-morrow he shall break 
his fast upon yours, — and a dainty meal for him ye 
will be! 

" If ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen, wait- 
ing for the butcher's knife: if ye are men, — follow me! 
strike down yon guard, gain the mountain passes, and 
there do bloody work, as did your sires at Old Thermo- 
pylae! Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen 
in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a be- 
labored hound beneath his master's lash? O comrades! 
warriors! Thracians! — If we must fight, let us fight for 
ourselves; if we must slaughter, let us slaughter our 
oppressors; if we must die, let us die under the open 
sky, by the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle! " 

MACLAINE'S CHILD. 

CHARLES MACKAY. 

" Maclaine! you Ve scourged me like a hound; 
You should have struck me to the ground; 
You should have played a chieftain's part; 
You should have stabbed me to the heart. 

" You should have crushed me unto death; — 
But here I swear with living breath, 
That for this wrong which you have done, — 
I '11 wreak my vengeance on your son, — 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 39 

" On him, and you, and all your race! " 
He said, and bounding from l}is place, 
He seized the child with sudden hold — 
A smiling infant, three years old — 

And starting like a hunted stag, 
He scaled the rock, he clomb the crag, 
And reached, o'er many a wide abyss, 
The beetling, seaward precipice; 

And leaning o'er its topmost ledge, 
He held the infant o'er the edge: — 
" In vain the wrath, thy sorrow vain; 
No hand shall save it, proud Maclaine! " 

With flashing eye and burning brow, 
The mother followed, heedless how, 
O'er crags with mosses overgrown, 
And stair-like juts of slippery stone. 

But midway up the rugged steep, 
She found a chasm she could not leap, 
And kneeling on its brink, she raised 
Her supplicating hands, and gazed. — 

" O, spare my child, my joy, my pride! 
O, give me back my child! " she cried: 
" My child! my child! " with sobs and tears, 
She shrieked upon his callous ears. 

" Come, Evan," said the trembling chief,— 
His bosom wrung with pride and grief, — 
" Restore the boy, give back my son, 
And 1 11 forgive the wrong you 've done." 

" I scorn forgiveness, haughty man! 
You've injured me before the clan; 
And naught but blood shall wipe away 
The shame I have endured to-day." 



140 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And as he spoke, he raised the child, 
To dash it 'mid the breakers wild, 
But, at the mother's piercing cry, 
Drew back a step, and made reply: — 

" Fair lady, if your lord will strip, 
And let a clansman wield the whip, 
Till skin shall Hay, and blood shall run, 
I'll give you back your little son." 

The lady's cheek grew pale with ire, 

The chieftain's eyes flashed sudden fire; 

He drew a pistol from his breast, 

Took aim, — then dropped it, sore distressed. 

" I might have slain my babe instead. 
Come, Evan, come," the father said, 
And through his heart a tremor ran; 
" We '11 fight our quarrel man to man." 

11 Wrong unavenged I Ve never borne," 
Said Evan, speaking loud in scorn; 
" You 've heard my answer, proud Maclaine: 
I will not fight you, — think again." 

The lady stood in mute despair, 
With freezing blood and stiffening hair; 
She moved no limb, she spoke no word; — 
She could but look upon her lord. 

He saw the quivering of her eye, 
Pale lips and speechless agony, — 
And, doing battle with his pride, 
" Give back the boy, — I yield," he cried. 

A storm of passions shook his mind — 
Anger and shame and love combined, 
But love prevailed, and bending low, 
He bared his shoulders to the blow. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 141 

"i smite you," vSaid the clansman true; 
a Forgive me, chief, the deed I do! 
For by yon Heaven that hears me speak, 
My dirk in Evan's heart shall reek! " 

But Evan's face beamed hate and joy; 
Close to his breast he hugged the boy: 
" Revenge is just, revenge is sweet, 
And mine, Lochbuy, shall be complete." 

Ere hand could stir, with sudden shock, 
He threw the infant o'er the rock, 
Then followed with a desperate leap, 
Down fifty fathoms to the deep. 

They found their bodies in the tide; 
And never till the day she died 
Was that sad mother known to smile — 
The Niobe of Mullas isle. 

They dragged false Evan from the sea, 
And hanged him on a gallows tree; 
And ravens fattened on his brain, 
To sate the vengeance of Maclaine. 

LITTLE JIM. 

The cottage was a thatched one, the outside poor and 

mean, 
But all within that little cot was wondrous neat and 

clean; 
The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howling 

wild, 

As a patient mother sat beside the death-bed of her 
child: 

A little worn-cut creature, his once bright eyes grown 

dim: 
It was a collier's wife and child, they called him Little 

Jim. 



142 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And oh! to see the briny tears fast hurrying' down her 

cheek, 
As she offered iq> the prayer, in thought, she was afraid 

to speak, 
Lest she might waken one she loved far better than her 

life, 
P A or she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's 

wife. 
With hands uplifted, sec, she kneels beside the sufferer's 

bed, 
And prays that He would spare her boy, and take 

herself instead. 

She gets her answer from the child: soft fall the words 

from him, 
" Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon Little Jim, 
1 have no pain, dear mother, now, but O! I am so dry, 
Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and mother, don't 

you cry." 
With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid to his 

lip; 
He smiled to thank her, as he took each little, tiny sip. 

" Tell father, when he comes from work, I said good- 
night to him, 
And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas! poor Little 

Jim! 
She knew that he was dying; that the child she loved so 

dear, 
Had uttered the last words she might ever hope to hear: 
The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is heard, 
The father and the mother meet, yet neither speak a 
^ word. 

He felt that all was over, he knew his child was dead, 
He took the candle in his hand and walked toward the 
bed; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 143 

His quivering lips gave token of the grief he 'd fain 

conceal, 
And see, his wife has joined him — the stricken couple 

kneel; 
With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask 

of Him, 
In Heaven once more to meet again their own poor Little 

Jim. 



MARCO BOZZARIS. 
FITZ GREENE HALLECK. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power; 
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring; 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, 

On old Platseas day; 
And now, there breathed that haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arm to strike, and. soul to dare, 

As quick, as far as they. 



144 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; 

That bright dream was his last; 
He woke to hear his sentries shriek, 
"To arms! — they come! the Greek! the Greek!" 
He woke — to die midst flame, and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightning from the mountain-cloud; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band: 
" Strike — till the last armed foe expires; 
Strike — for your altars and your fires; 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires; 

God — and your native land! 

They fought — like brave men, long and well; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain; 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud huzza, 

And the red field was won; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

Come to the bridal chamber, Death! 

Come to the mother, when she feels, 
For the first time her first-born's breath; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm; 
Come when the heart beats high and warm 

With banquet-song, and dance and wine, — ■ 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 145 

And thou art terrible! — The tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier; 
And all we know, or dream, or fear, 
Of agony, are thine. 

But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Bozzaris! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee: there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — 
One of the few, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die! 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 

The breeze had sunk to rest, the noonday sun was high, 
The ocean's breast lay motionless beneath a cloudless 

sky, 
There was silence in the air, there was silence in the 

deep; 
And it seemed as though that burning calm were nature's 

final sleep. 

The mid-day watch was set, beneath the blaze of light, 
When there came a cry from the tall mast-head, " A sail! 

a sail, in sight! " 
And o'er the far horizon a snowy speck appeared, 
And every eye was strained to watch the vessel as she 

neared. 



146 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

There was no breath of air, yet she bounded on her 

way, 
And the dancing waves around her prow were flashing 

into spray. 
She answered not their hail, alongside as she passed: 
There were none who trod her spacious deck; not a 

seaman on the mast: 

No hand to guide her helm: yet on she held her course; 
She swept along that waveless sea, as with a tempest's 

force: 
A silence, as of death, was o'er that vessel spread, 
She seemed a thing of another world, the world where 

dwell the dead. 

She passed away from sight, the deadly calm was o'er, 
And the spell-bound ship pursued her course before 

the breeze once more; 
And clouds across the sky obscured the noonday sun, 
And the winds arose at the tempest's call, before the 

day was done. 

Midnight — and still the storm raged wrathfully and loud, 
And deep in the trough of the heaving sea labored that 

vessel proud: 
There was darkness all aronnd, save where lightning 

flashes keen 
Played on the crests of the broken waves, and lit the 

depths between. 

Around her and below, the waste of waters roared, 
And answered the crash of the falling masts as they 

cast them overboard. 
At every billow's shock her shivering timbers strain; 
And as she rose on crested wave, that strange ship 

passed again. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 147 

And o'er that stormy sea she flew before the gale, 

Yet she had not struck her lightest spar, nor furled her 

loftiest sail. 
Another blinding flash, and nearer yet she seemed, 
And a pale blue light along her sails and o'er her rigging 

gleamed. 

But it showed no seaman's form, no hand her course to 

guide; 
And to their signals of distress the winds alone replied. 
The Phantom Ship passed on, driven o'er her pathless 

way, 
But helplessly the sinking wreck amid the breakers lay. 

The angry tempest ceased, the winds were hushed to 

sleep, 
And calm and bright the sun again shone out upon the 

deep. 
But that gallant ship no more shall roam the ocean free; 
She has reached her final haven, beneath'the dark blue. 

sea. 

And many a hardy seaman, who fears nor storms nor 
fight, 

Yet trembles when the Phantom Ship drives past his 
watch at night; 

For it augurs death and danger: it bodes a watery grave, 

With sea-weeds for his pillow — for his shroud, the wan- 
dering wave. 

SPEECH OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Farewell, — a long farewell, to all my greatness! 
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him. 



148 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, 
And then he fall, as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of glory; 
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride 
At length broke under mo; and now has left me, 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; 
I feel my heart new opened: Oh! how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors! 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me 
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell; 
And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be; 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee: 
Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; 
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? 
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee. 
Corruption wins not moi e than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 149 

And, — Pr'ythee, lead me in; 

There take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny; 't is the king's: my robe, 

And my integrity to heaven, is all 

I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal 

I served my king, He would not in mine age 

Have left me naked to mine enemies. 

MORNING HYMN TO MOUNT BLANC. 

COLERIDGE. 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 

In his steep course? — so long he seems to pause 

On thy bald, awfnl head, O sovereign Blanc! 

The Arve and Aveiron at thy base 

Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form! 

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 

How silently! Around thee and above 

Deep is the air and dark, — substantial black, — 

An ebon mass; methinks thou piercest it, 

As with a wedge! But when I look again, 

It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 

Thy habitation from eternity! 

dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

Yet like some sweet, beguiling melody, 

So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, 

Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thoughts, 

Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy, — 

Till the dilating soul, enwrapt, transfused, 

Into the mighty vision passing — there 

As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaver*. 



150 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Awake, my soul! not only passive praise 
Thou owest — not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy. Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake! 
Green vales and icy cliffs all join my hymn. 
Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale! 
Oh! struggling with the darkness all the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink: 
Companion of the morning-star at dawn, 
Thyself, earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald! wake, oh wake! and utter praise. 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! 

Who called ye forth from night and utter death, 

From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 

Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks. 

Forever shattered and the same forever? 

Who gave you your invulnerable life, 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 

Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? 

And who commanded, — and the silence came, — 

" Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?" 

Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow 

Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — 

Torrent, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 

And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! 

Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! — 

Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven 

Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun 

Clothe you with rainbows? Who with living flowers 

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — 

" God! " let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 

Answer; and let the ice-plains echo, "God!" 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 15! 

" God! " sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice, 

Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! 

And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, 

And in their perilous fall shall thunder, " God! " 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost! 

Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! 

Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain, storm! 

Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! 

Ye signs and wonders of the elements! 

Utter forth << God! " and fill the hills with praise. 

Once more, hoar mount! with thy sky-pointing peak, 

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, 

Into the depths of clouds that veil thy breast, — 

Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain! thou, 

That, as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 

In adoration, upward from thy base 

Slow-traveling with dim eyes suffused with tears, 

Solemly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 

To rise before me — rise, oh, ever rise, 

Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! 

Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills, 

Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven. 

Great hicrrarch! tell thou the silent sky, 

And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God! 

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM, 

THOMAS HOOD. 

'T was in the prime of summer time, 

An evening calm and cool, 
And four-and-twenty happy boys 

Came bounding out oi school: 
There were some that ran and some that leapt, 

Like troutlets in a pool. 



152 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Away they sped, with gamesome minds, 

And souls untouch'd by sin; 
To a level mead they came, and there 

They drave the wickets in: 
Pleasantly shone the setting sun 

Over the town of Lynn. 

Like sportive deer they coursed about, 

And shouted as they ran, 
Turning to mirth all things of earth, 

As only boyhood can; 
But the Usher sat remote from all, 

A melancholy man! ^ 

His hat was off, his vest apart, 
To catch heaven's blessed breeze; 

For a burning thought was in his brow, 
And his bosom ill at ease; 

So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read 
The book between his knees! 

Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er, 

Nor even glanced aside, 
For the peace of his soul he read that book 

In the golden eventide: 
Much study had made him very lean, 

And pale, and leaden-eyed. 

At last he shut the ponderous tome, 

With a fast and fervent grasp 
He strain'd the dusky covers close, 

And fix'd the brazen hasp: 
" Oh, God! could I so close my mind, 

And clasp it with a clasp! " 

Then leaping on his feet upright, 

Some moody turns he took, — 
Now up the mead, then down the mead, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I S3 

And past a shady nook, 

And, lo! he saw a little boy 

That pored upon a book! 

" My gentle lad, what is 't you read — 

Romance or fairy fable? 
Or is it some historic page, 

Of kings and crowns unstable? " 
The young boy gave an upward glance, — 

It is 'The Death of Abel.' " 

The Usher took six hasty strides, 

As smit with sudden pain, — 
Six hasty strides beyond the place, 

Then slowly back again; 
And down he sat beside the lad, 

And talked with him of Cain; 

And long since then, of bloody men 

Whose deeds tradition saves; 
Of lonely folk cut off unseen, 

And hid in sudden graves; 
Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn, 

And murders done in caves; 

And how the sprites of injured men 

Shriek upward from the sod, — 
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point 

To show the burial clod; 
And unknown facts of guilty acts 

Are seen in dreams from God; 

He told how murderers walked the earth 

Beneath the curse of Cain, — 
With crimson clouds before their eyes, 

And flames about their brain: 
For blood had left upon their souls 

Its everlasting stain! 



154" SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

" And well," quoth he, " I know for truth, 
Their pangs must be extreme, — 

Woe, woe, untterable woe, — 
Who spill life's sacred stream! 

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought 
A murder in a dream! 

" One that had never done me wrong — 

A feeble man and old; 
I led him to a lonely field, — 

The moon shone clear and cold; 
'Now here,' said I, * this man shall die, 

And I will have his gold! ' 

" Two sudden blows with ragged stick, 

And one with a heavy stone, 
One hurried gash with a hasty knife, — 

And then the deed was done: 
There was nothing lying at my foot 

But lifeless flesh and bone! 

" Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone, 
That could not do me ill; 
And yet I fear'd him all the more, 

For lying there so still: 
There was a manhood in his look, 
That murder could not kill! 

"And, lo! the universal air 

Seemed lit with ghastly flame: — 

Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes 
Were looking down in blame: 

I tood the dead man by his hand, 
And call'd upon his name! 

" O God! it made me quake to see 

Such sense within the slain! 
But when I touch'd the lifeless clay. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION ' 1 55 

The blood gush'd out amain! 
For every clot, a burning spot 
Was scorching in my brain! 

" My head was like an ardent coal, 

My heart as solid ice; 
My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, 

Was at the Devil's price: 
A dozen times I groan'd; the dead 

Had never groan'd but twice! 

" And now, from forth the frowning sky, 

From the Heaven's topmost hight, 
I heard a voice — the awful voice 

Of the blood-avenging sprite: — 
1 Thou guilty man! take up thy dead 

And hide it from my sight! ' 

" I took the dreary body up, 

And cast it in a stream, — 
A sluggish water black as ink, 

The depth was so extreme: — ■ 
My gentle boy, remember this 

Is nothing but a dream! 

"Down went the corse with a hollow plunge, 

And vanish'd in the pool; 
Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, 

And washed my forehead cool, 
And sat among the urchins young, 

That evening in the school. 

"O Heaven! to think of their white souls, 

And mine so black and grim! 
I could not share in childish prayer, 

Nor join in evening hymn: 
Like a Devil of the Pit I seem'd, 

'Mid holy cherubim! 



156 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

" And Peace went with them, ore and all, 
And each calm pillow spread; 

But Guilt was my grim Chamberlain 
That lighted me to bed, 

And drew my midnight curtains round, 
With fingers bloody red! 

"All night I lay in agony, 

In anguish dark and deep, 
My fever'd eyes I dared not close, 

But stared aghast at Sleep: 
For Sin has render 'd unto her 

The keys of Hell to keep! 

" All night I lay in agony, 

From weary chime to chime, 

With one besetting horrid hint, 
That rack'd me all the time: 

A mighty yearning, like the first 
Fierce impulse unto crime! 

" One stern tyrannic thought, that made 
All other thoughts its slave; 

Stronger and stronger every pulse 
Did that temptation crave, — 

Still urging me to go and see 
The Dead Man in his grave! 

" Heavily I rose up, as soon 

As light was in the sky, 
And sought the black accursed pool 

With a wild misgiving eye; 
And I saw the Dead in the river bed, 

For the faithless stream was dry! 

" Merrily rose the lark, and shook 

The dew-drop from its wing; 
But I never mark'd its morning flight, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I 57 

I never heard it sing: 
For I was stooping once again 
Over the horrid thing. 

" With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, 

I took him up and ran; — 
There was no time to dig a grave 

Before the day began: 
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, 

I hid the murder'd man! 

" And all that day I read in school, 1 

But my thought was other where; 
As soon as the mid-day task was done, 

In secret I was there: 
And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, 

And still the corse was bare! 

"Then down I cast me on my face' 

And first began to weep, 
For I knew my secret then was one 

That earth refused to keep; 
Or land or sea, though he should be^ 

Ten thousand fathoms deep. 

"So wills the fierce avenging Sprite, 

Till blood for blood atones! « 

Ay, though he 's buried in a cave, 

And trodden down with stones, 
And years have rotted off his flesh 

The world shall see his bones! 

"O God, that horrid, horrid dream 

Besets me now awake! 
Again — again, with dizzy brain, 

The human life I take; 
And my right red hand grows raging hot, 

Like Cranmer's at the stake, 



1 58 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

" And still no peace for the restless clay 

Will wave or mould allow; 
The horrid thing- pursues my soul, — 

It stands before me now! " 
The fearful boy look'd up, and saw 

Huge drops upon his brow. 

That very night, while gentle sleep 

The urchin's eyelids kiss'd, 
Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, 

Through the cold and heavy mist; 
And Eugene Aram walk'd between, 

With gyves upon his wrist. 



THE CURSE OF REGULUS. 

The palaces and domes of Carthage were burning 
with the splendors of noon, and the blue waves of her 
harbor were rolling and gleaming in the gorgeous sun- 
light. An attentive ear could catch a low murmur, 
sounding from the center of the city, which seemed like 
the moaning of the wind before a tempest. And well 
it might. The whole people of Carthage, startled, as- 
tounded by the report that Regulus had returned, were 
pouring, a mighty tide, into the great square before the 
Senate House. There were mothers in that throng, 
whose captive sons were groaning in Roman fetters; 
maidens, whose lovers were dying in the distant dun- 
geons of Rome; gray-haired men and matrons, whom 
Roman steel had made childless; men who were seeing 
their country's life crushed out by Roman power; and 
with wild voices, cursing and groaning, the vast throng 
gave vent to the rage, the hate, the anguish of long 
years. 

Calm and unmoved as the marble walls around him, 
stood Regulus, the Roman! He stretched his arm over 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 159 

the surging crowd with a gesture as proudly imperious, 
as though he stood at the head of his own gleaming co- 
horts. Before that silent command the tumult ceased — 
the half uttered execration died upon the lip — so intense 
was the silence that the clank of the captive's brazen 
manacles smote sharp on every ear, as he thus ad- 
dressed them: 

" Ye doubtless thought, judging of Roman virtue by 
your own, that I would break my plighted faith, rather 
than by returning, and leaving your sons and brothers 
to rot in Roman dungeons, to meet your vengeance. 
Well, I could give reasons for this return, foolish and 
inexplicable as it seems to you; I could speak of yearn- 
ings after immortality — of those eternal principles in 
whose pure light a patriot's death is glorious, a thing to 
be desired; but by great Jove! I should debase myself 
to dwell on such high themes to you. If the bright 
blood which feeds my heart were like the slimy ooze 
that stagnates in your veins, I should have remained at 
Rome, saved my life, and broken my oath. If, then, you 
ask why I have come back, to let you work your will on 
this poor body which I esteem but as the rags that 
cover it, — enough reply for you, it is because I am a 
Roman! As such, here in your very capital I defy you! 
What I have done ye never can undo; what ye may do, I 
care not. Since first my young arm knew how to wield 
a Roman sword have I not routed your armies, burned 
your towns, and dragged your generals at my chariot 
wheels? And do ye now expect to see me cower and 
whine with dread of Carthagenian vengeance? Compared 
to that fierce mental strife which my heart has just 
passed through at Rome, the piercing of this flesh, the 
rending of these sinews, would be but sport to me. 

", Venerable senators, with trembling voices and out- 
stretched hands, besought me to return no more to 
Carthage. The gererous people, with loud wailing, and 



l6o SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

wildly tossing gestures, bade me stay. The voice of a 
beloved mother, — her withered hands beating her 
breast, her gray hairs streaming in the wind, tears flow- 
ing down her furrowed cheeks — praying me not to 
leave her in her lonely and helpless old age, is still 
sounding in my ears. Compared to anguish like this, 
the paltry torment you have in store is as the murmur 
of the meadow brook to the wild tumult of the mount- 
ain storm. Go! bring your threatened tortures! The 
woes I see impending over this fated city will be enough 
to sweeten death, though every nerve should tingle with 
its agony. I die — but mine shall be the triumph; yours 
the untold desolation. For every drop of blood that 
falls from my veins, your own shall pour in torrents! 
Woe, unto thee, O Carthage! I see thy homes and tem- 
ples all in flames, thy citizens in terror, thy women wail- 
ing for the dead. Proud city! thou art doomed! the 
curse of Jove, a living, lasting curse is on thee! The 
hungry waves shall lick the golden gates of thy rich 
palaces, and every brook run crimson to the sea. Rome, 
with bloody hand, shall sweep thy heart-strings, and all 
thy homes shall howl in wild response of anguish 
to her touch. Proud mistress of the sea, disrobed, un- 
crowned and scourged — thus again do I devote thee to 
the infernal gods! 

Now, bring forth your tortures! Slaves! while ye tear 
this quivering flesh, remember how often Regulus has 
beaten your armies and humbled your pride! Cut as he 
would have carved you! Burn deep as his curse! 

SUNBEAMS AND SHADOWS. 

I saw a little maiden, 

Playing with the sunbeams bright. 
How her merry blue eyes sparkled 

As with innocent delight 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION l6l 

She gathered, in her childish glee, 

Her apron full, with care, 
Then, peeping archly in to see, 

She found no sunbeams there! 

I saw her but a moment, 

Yet that vision pure and bright, 
Is shrined within my memory, 

As some fair thing of light. 
I seem to hear her silvery laugh 

Still ringing in my ear, 
As looking in her apron folds, ' 

She found no sunbeams there. 

Once more, she stood before me, 

A happy, trusting bride; 
A wreath was on her snowy brow, 

Her chosen, by her side. 
The dark and silken lashes 

Shaded those eyes of light, 
That danced in joy, when years ago, 

She caught the sunbeams bright. 

Again the vision passed away, 

As it had done before, 
And from that joyous wedding-day, 

I saw her face no more 
Till ten long years bad glided on, 

Since last, with joy and pride, 
I saw that beauteous child of earth, 

A young and blooming bride. 

I mingled with the gathered throng 

That round the altar stood ; 
The memories of other years, 

Rushed o'er me like a flood. 
Before me in her snowy robes, 

As on her bridal day, 



i62 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION ^ 

In calm and passionless repose 

That lovely earth-child lay. \ 

No wreath was on her marble brow, 

No sparkle in her eye; 
'T was Heaven's decree that this sweet flower 

Should only bloom to die. 
Yet not to die, but live again, 

III far-off worlds of light, 
To dwell once more in happiness 

Amid the sunbeams bright. 

The locks are changed from brown to gray, 

That erst adorned my head; 
Since those three visions passed away — 

The child — the bride — the dead. 

I *m dreaming now, I 'm dreaming, 

And the vision 1 behold 
Is the City of the Ransomed, 

Where the streets are paved with gold. 
And as I look and listen, 

Falls upon my ravished ear, 
Music, not of mortals' breathing, 

Such as only angels hear. 
And I see bright forms around me 

Floating in the perfumed air, 
Clad in robes of snowy whiteness 

Such as only angels wear. 

One there is among the number, 
Whom on earth I used to know, 

When a child she watched the sunbeams, 
Watched them come, and saw them go. 

By her golden hair I know her, 
By her pure and radiant brow; 

For I saw the little maiden, 
As I see the angel now. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 63 

Little change had come upon her, 

Save the eyes, on earth so bright, 
Now are beaming on her sisters, 

With a calmer, holier light. 
And the Saviour's smiles are resting 

On that being, bright and fair, 
As she whispers to the angels 

She hath found her sunbeams " there! " 

SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 

THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. 

Up from the South at break of day, 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, 
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar. 
Telling the battle was on once more, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war, 

Thundered along the horizon's bar; 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 

The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 

Making the blood of the listener cold, 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 

A good, broad highway leading down; 

And there, through the flush of the morning light, 

A steed, as black as the steeds of night, 

Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight; 

As if he knew the terrible need, 

He stretched away with his utmost speed; 

Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 



1 64 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs ,thundering South 

The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, 

Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 

Foreboding to foemen the doom of disaster. 

The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master, 

Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 

Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; 

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 

With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under Ins spurning: feet, the road 

Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 

And the landscape sped away behind, 

Like an ocean Hying before the wind; 

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, 

Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire. 

But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only five miles away. 

The first that the General saw were the groups 

Of stagglers, and then the retreating troops; 

What was done! what to do? a glance told him both, 

Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, 

He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, 

And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because 

The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; 

By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play, 

He seemed to the whole great army to say, 

" I have brought you Sheridan all the way 

From Winchester, down to save the day. 

Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan! '-- 

Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man! 
And when their statues are placed on high 
Under the dome of the Union sky, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 65 

The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, 
There, with the glorious General's name, 
Be it said in letters both bold and bright: 
" Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight, 
From Winchester — twenty miles away! " 

LOCHINVAR'S RIDE. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, — 
Through all the wide border his steed was the best ! 
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, — • 
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone; 

He swam the Esk River where ford there was none; 

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 

'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword 

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), 

"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" 

"I long wooed your daughter, — my suit you denied; — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; 
And now am I come with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, 



1 66 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup, 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar, — 
" Now tread we a measure! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 

While her mother did fret and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and 

plume, 
And the bridemaidens whispered "*T were better by far, 
To have matched our fair cousin to young Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, 

When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood 

near; 
So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scar! 
They '11 have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Loch- 
invar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they 

ran: 
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 

SANDALPHON. 
H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

Have you read in the Talmud of old, 
In the Legends the Rabbins have told 
Of the limitless realms of the air, — 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 67 

Have you read it,— the marvelous story 
Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, 
Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? 

How, erect, at the outermost gates 
Of the City Celestial he waits, 

With his feet on the ladder of light, 
That, crowded with angels unnumbered, 
By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered 

Alone in the desert at night? 

The Angels of Wind and of Fire 
Chant only one hymn, and expire 

With the song's irresistible stress; 
Expire in their rapture and wonder, 
As harp-strings are broken asunder 

By music they throb to express. 

But serene in the rapturous throng, 
Unmoved by the rush of the song, 

With eyes unimpassioned and slow, 
Among the dead angels, the deathless 
Sandalphon stands listening breathless 
To sounds that ascend from below; — 

From spirits on earth that adore, 
From the souls that entreat and implore 

In the fervor and passion of prayer; 
From the hearts that are broken with losses, 
And weary, with dragging the crosses 

Too heavy for mortals to bear. 

And he gathers the prayers as he stands, 
And they change into flowers in his hands, 

Into garlands of purple and red; 
And beneath the great arch of the portal, 
Through the streets of the City Immortal 

Is wafted the fragrance they shed. 



l68 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

It is but a legend I know, — 
A fable, a phantom, a show, 

Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; 
Yet the old mediaeval tradition, 
The beautiful, strange superstition, 

But haunts me and holds me the more. 

When I look from my window at night, 
And the welkin above is all white, 

All throbbing antl panting with stars, 
Among them majestic is standing 
Sandalphon the angel, expanding 

His pinions in nebulous bars. 

And the legend, I feel, is a part 

Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, 

The frenzy and fire of the brain, 
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, 
The golden pomegranates of Eden, 

To quiet its fever and pain. 

THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX. 

BROWNING. 

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he: 
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 
"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts un- 
drew; 
" Speed! " echoed the wall to us galloping through; 
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace — 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our 

place; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 69 

Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

"X was moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; 
At Duffield 'twas morning as plain as could be; 
And from Mecheln church steeple we heard the half- 
chime — 
So Joris broke silence with " Yet there is time! " 

At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past: 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray, 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent 

back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance; 
And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned: and cried Joris, " Stay spur! 
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault 's not in her; 
We '11 remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick 

wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering 

knees, 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank, 

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh; 



170 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like 

chaff, 
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 
And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight! " 

" How they '11 greet us! " — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, 
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or 

good, 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is friends flocking round, 
As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
Was no more than his due who brought good news 
from Ghent. 

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 
Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five: 
Hardly a man is now alive 
Who remembers that famous day and year. 
He said to his friend — " If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I?t 

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North Church tower, as a signal light- 
One if by land, and two if by sea; 
And I on the opposite shore will be, 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm, 
For the country folk to be up and to arm." 

Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar 

Silently rode to the Charlestown shore, 

Just as the moon rose over the bay, 

Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay 

The Somerset, British man-of-war; 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

Across the moon, like a prison bar, 

And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack-door, 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed to the tower of the church, 
Up to the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 
To the belfry-chamber overhead, 
And startled the pigeons from their perch 
On the somber rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade — 
Up the light ladder, slender and tall, 
To the highest window in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 
A moment on the roofs of the quiet town, 
And the moonlight flowing over all. 



172 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Meanwhile, impatient to mouut and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
Now he patted his horse's side, 
Now gazed on the landscape far and near, 
Then impetuous stamped the earth, 
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;" 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry tower of the old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. 

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! 
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet: 

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, 

The fate of a nation was riding that night; 

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 

Kindled the land into flame by its heat. 

It was twelve by the village clock 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town, 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 

And the barking of the farmer's dog, 

And felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises when the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock 
When he rode into Lexington. 
He saw the gilded weathercock 
Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 173 

Arid the meetinghouse windows, blank and bare, 
Gaze at him with a spectral glare, w 

As if they already stood aghast 
At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall — 

Who that day would be lying dead, 

Pierced by a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read 
How the British regulars fired and fled — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 
From behind each fence and farmyard wall, 
Chasing the red-coats down the lane, 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again, 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm — 

A cry of defiance, and not of fear — 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo for evermore! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last, 

In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear ; 

The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 



174 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 



SHAMUS O'BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF GLINGALL. 
A TALE OF '98. 

SHERIDAN LEFANOR. 

Jist afther the war, in the year of '98, 

As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate, 

'T was the custom, whenever a pisant was got, 

To hang- him by thrial — barrin' sich as was shot. 

There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight, 

And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night. 

It 's them was hard times for an honest gossoon: 

If he missed in the judges — he 'd meet a dragoon; 

An whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence, 

The divil a much time they allowed for repentance. 

An its many's the fine boy was then on his keepin* 

Wid small share of restin', or atin', or sleepin', 

An' because they loved Erin, an' seorned to sell it, 

A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet — 

Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day, 

With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay; 

An' the bravest an' hardiest boy iv them all 

Was Shamus O'Brien, from the town iv Glingall. 

His limbs were well set, an' his body was light, 

An' the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white; 

But his face was as pale as the face of the dead, 

An' his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red. 

An' for all that he was n't an ugly young bye, 

For the divil himself cou 1 d n't blaze with his eye, 

So droll and so wicked, so dark and so bright, 

Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the night! 

An' he was the best mower that ever has been, 

An' the illigantest hurler that ever was seen, 

An' his dancing was sich that the men used to stare, 

An' the women turn crazy, he done it so quare; 

An' by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 75 

An' it 's he was the boy that was hard to be caught, 

An' it 's often he run, an' its often he fought, 

An' its many the one can remember right well 

The quare things he done: an' it 's often I heard tell 

How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin four, 

An' stretched the two strongest on old Galtimore. 

But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest, 

An' treachery prey on the blood of the best; 

Afther many a brave action of power and pride, 

An' many a hard night on the mountain's bleak side, 

An' a thousand great dangers and toils overpast, 

In the darkness of night he was taken at last. 

Now, Shamus, look back on the beautiful moon, 

For the door of the prison must close on you soon, 

An' take your last look at her dim lovely light, 

That falls on the mountain and valley this night; 

One look at the village, one look at the flood, 

An' one at the sheltering, far-distant wood; 

Farewell to the forest, farewell to the hill; 

An' farewell to the friends that will think of you still; 

Farewell to the pathern, the hurlin' an' wake, 

An' farewell to the girl that would die for your sake. 

An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail, 

An' the turnkey resaved him, refusin' all bail; 

The fleet limbs wor chained, and the sthrong hands wor 

bound, 
An' he laid down his length on the cowld prison ground, 
An' the dreams of his childhood kern over him there 
As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air; 
An' happy remembrances crowding on ever, 
As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river, 
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by, 
Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye. 
But the tears did n't fall, for the pride of his heart 
Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start; 



176 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

An' he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave, 
An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave, 
By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave, 
That when he was mouldering in the cold grave 
His enemies never should have it to boast 
His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost; 
His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry, 
For, undaunted he lived, and undaunted he 'd die. 

Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone, 
The terrible day iv the thrial kem on, 
There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand 
An' sodgers on guard, an' dhragoons sword-in-hand; 
An' the court house so full that the people were bothered, 
An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered; 
An' counsellors almost gov over for dead, 
An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead; 1 
An' the judge settled out so detarmined an' big, 
With his gown on his back, and an illigant new wig; 
An' silence was called, an' the minute it was said 
The court was as still as the heart of the dead, 
An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock, 
An' Shamus O'Brien kem into the dock. 

For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng, 

An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong, 

An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend, 

A chance to escape, nor a word to defend; 

An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone, 

As calm and as cold as a statue of stone; 

An' they read a big writin', a yard long at laste, 

An' Jim did n't understand it, nor mind it a taste, 

An' the judge took a big pinch of snuff, and he says, 

" Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plaze? " 

An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread, 
An' Shamus O'Brien made answer and said; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 77 

"My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time 

I thought any treason, or did any crime 

That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here, 

The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear, 

Though I stood by the grave to receive my death blow, 

Before God and the world I would answer you, no! 

But if you would ask me, as I think it like, 

If in the rebellion I carried a pike, 

An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close, 

An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes, 

I answer you, yes; and I tell you again, 

Though I stand here to perish, it's my glory that then 

In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry, 

An' that now for her sake I am ready to die." 

Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright, 

And the judge was n't sorry the job was made light; 

By my sowl, its himself was the crabbed ould chap; 

In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap. 

Then Shamus's mother in the crowd standin' by, 

Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry: 

" O judge! darlin', do n't, oh, do n't say the word! 

The crathure is young, have mercy, my lord; 

He was foolish, he did n't know what he was doin'; 

You do n't know him, my lord — oh, do n't give him to 

ruin! 
He 's the kindliest crathure, the tendherest hearted; 
Do n't part us forever, we that 's so long parted. 
Judge, mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord,. 
An- God will forgive you — oh, do n't say the word! " 

That was the first minute that O'Brien was shaken, 
When he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken; 
An' down his pale cheeks, at the word of his mother, 
The big tears wor runnin' fast, one afther the other; 
An' two or three times he endeavored to spake, 
But the sthrong, manly voice used to falther and break; 



I78 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

But at last, by the strength of his high-mounting pride, 
He conquered and masthered his grief's swelling tide, 
''An'," says he, "mother, darlin', don 't break your poor 

heart, 
For, sooner or later, the dearest must part; 
And God knows it 's betther than wandering in fear 
On the bleak, trackless mountain, among the wild deer, 
To lie in the grave, where the head, heart, and breast, 
From thought, labor, and sorrow, forever shall rest. 
Then, mother, my darlin', do n't cry any more, 
Do n't make me seem broken, in this, my last hour; 
For I wish, when my head 's lyin' under the raven, 
No thrue man can say that 1 died like a craven! " 
Then towards the judge Shamus bent down his head, 
An' that minute the solemn death-sentince was said. 

The mornin' was bright, an' the mists rose on high, 

An' the lark whistled merrily in the clear sky; 

An' why are the men standin' idle so late? 

An' why do the crowds gather fast in the street? 

What come they to talk of? what come they to see? 

An' why does the long rope hang from the cross-tree? 

O, Shamus O'Brien! pray fervent and fast, 

May the saints take your soul, for this day is your last; 

Pray fast and pray sthrong, for the moment is nigh, 

When, sthrong, proud, an' great as you are, you must die. 

An' fasther an' fasther, the crowd gathered there, 

Boys, horses, and gingerbread, just like a fair; 

An' whiskey was sellin', and cussamuck too, 

An' ould men and young women enjoying the view. 

An* ould Tim Mulvany, he med the remark, 

There wasn't sich a sight since the time of Noah's ark, 

An' be gorry, 't was thrue for him, for divil sich a scruge, 

Sich divarshin and crowds, was known since the deluge, 

For thousands were gathered there, if there was one, 

Waitin' till such time as the hangin' 'id come on, 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 79 

At last they threw open the big prison-gate, 
An' out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state, 
An' a cart in the middle, and Shamus was in it, 
Not paler, but prouder than ever, that minute. 
An' as soon as the people saw Shamus O'Brien, 
Wid prayin* and blessin', and all the girls cryin', 
A wild wailin' sound kem on by degrees, 
Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin* through 
trees. 

On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone, 

An* the cart an' the sodgers go steadily on; 

An' at every side swellin' around of the cart, 

A wild, sorrowful sound, that id open your heart. 

Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand, 

An' the hangman j^ets up with the rope in his hand; 

An' the priest, havin' blest him, goes down on the ground, 

An' Shamus O'Brien throws one last look around. 

Then the hangman dhrew near, an' the people grew still, 
Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turned chill, 
An' the rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare, 
For the gripe iv the life-strangling cord to prepare; 
An' the good priest has left him, bavin' said his last prayer, 
But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound, 
And with one daring spring Jim has leaped on the ground, 
Bang! bang! goes the carbines, and clash goes the sabres; 
He's not down! he's alive still! now stand to him, 

neighbors! 
Through the smoke and the horses he's into the crowd — 
By the heavens, he's free! — than thunder more loud, 
By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken — 
One shout that the dead of the world might awaken. 

The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that, 
An' Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat; 
To-night he '11 be sleepin' in Aherloe Glin, 



I Go SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

An' the divil *s in the dice if you catch him ag'in. 
Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang, 
But if you want hangin' it 's yourself you must hang. 

He has mounted his horse, and soon he will be 
In America, darlint, the land of the free. 



OVER THE RIVER. 

N. A. W. PRIEST. 

Over the river they beckon to me, 

Loved ones who crossed to the other side; 
The gleam of their snowy robes I see, 

But their voices are drowned by the rushing tide. 
There *s one with ringlets of sunny gold, 

And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue; 
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. 
We saw not the angels that met him there — 

The Gates of the City we could not see; 
Over the river, over the river, 

My brother stands, waiting to welcome me. 

Over the river the boatman pale 

Carried another, the household pet; 
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale — 

Darling Minnie! I see her yet! 
She closed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 

And fearlessly entered the phantom bark; 
We watched it glide from the silver sands, 

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. 
We know she is safe on the further side, 

Where all the ransomed and angels be; 
Over the river, the mystic river, 

My childhoods's idol is waiting for me. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 151 

For none return from those quiet shores, 

Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; 
We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

And catch a glimpse of the snowy sail; 
And lo! they have passed from our yearning hearts, 

They cross the stream and are gone for aye. 
We may not sunder the vail apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of day; 
We only know that their barks no more 

Sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore 

They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 

And I sit and think when the sunset's gold 

Is flashing on river, and hill, and shore, 
I shall one day stand by the waters cold 

And list to the sound of the boatman's oar. 
I shall watch for the gleam of the flapping sail; 

I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand; 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale 

To the better shore of the Spirit Land. 
I shall know the loved, who have gone before, 

And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
When over the river, the peaceful river, 

The Angel of Death shall carry me. 

THE FIREMAN. 

ROBERT T. CONRAD. 

The city slumbers. O'er its mighty walls 
Night's dusky mantle, soft and silent, falls; 
vSleep o'er the world slow waves its wand of lead, 
And ready torpors wrap each sinking head. 
Stilled is the stir of labor and of life; 
Hushed is the hum, and tranquilized the strife. 
Man is at rest, with all his hopes and fears; 



1 82 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The young forget their sports, the old their cares; 
The grave are careless; those who joy or weep 
All rest contented on the arm of sleep. 

Sweet is the pillowed rest of beauty now, 
And slumber smiles upon her tranquil brow; 
Her bright dreams lead her to the moonlit tide, 
Her heart's own partner wandering by her side; 
'Tis summer'r eve; the soft gales scarcely rouse 
The low-voiced ripple and the rustling boughs; 
And, faint and far, some minstrel's melting tone, 
Breathes to her heart a music like its own. 

When, hark! O, horror! what a crash is there! 
What shriek is that which fills the midnight air? 
'Tis fire! 'tis fire! She wakes to dream no more; 
The hot blast rushes through the blazing door; 
The dun smoke eddies round; and, hark! that cry: 
"Help! help! Will no one aid? I die, I die!" 
She seeks the casement; shuddering at its height 
She turns again; the fierce flames mock her flight; 
Along the crackling stairs they fiercely play, 
And roar, exulting, as they seize their prey. 
" Help! help! Will no one come? " She can no more; 
But, pale and breathless, sinks upon the floor. 

Will no one save thee? Yes, there yet is one 
Remains to save, when hope itself is gone: 
When all have fled, when all but he would fly, 
The fireman comes, to rescue or to die. 
He mounts the stair, — it wavers 'neath his tread; 
He seeks the room, flames flashing round his head; 
He bursts the door; he lifts her prostrate frame, 
And turns again to brave the raging flame. 
The fire -blast smites him with its stifling breath: 
The falling timbers menace him with death; 
The sinking floors his hurried step betray; 
And ruin crashes round his desperate way; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I S3 

Hot smoke obscures, ten thousand cinders rise, 
Yet still he staggers forward with his prize; 
He leaps from burning stair to stair. On! on! 
Courage! One effort more, and all is won! 
The stair is passed, — the blazing hall is braved; 
Still on! yet on! once more! Thank Heaven, she 's 
saved! 

ANALYSIS OF THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 

PHILIP LAWRENCE. 

Of the varied productions of a great and popular 
poet the most intellectual have been least understood; 
and in order that one of the best of them may be fully 
appreciated we will endeavor, with all deference, to ex- 
plain its meaning. 

When Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of Amer- 
ica's most gifted poets, was a young man and resided 
with his parents at their old homestead, he had often, 
in hours of leisure, listened to the ticking of the clock 
standing half way up the stairs, and thought how many 
meanings there were in its ceaseless tick, tick, which 
seemed to be continually repeating the words, "For- 
ever — never! Never — forever! " This has been so beau- 
tifully expressed by the poet, that for the benefit of 
young persons we will proceed to analyze and explain 
the various verses of the poem. 

The first verse describes the old homestead: 

"Somewhat back -from the village street 
Stands the old-fashion 'd country-seat: 
Across its antique portico 
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw, 
And from its station in the hall, 
An ancient timepiece says to all — 
" ' Forever — never! 
Never — forever] ' " 



184 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

As the poet sat and listened he imagined the ceaseless 
swing of the pendulum, with its continued tick, tick, 
seemed to say to him, "Forever — never! Never — for- 
ever! " 

The second verse describes the clock: " Half way up 
the stairs it stands," etc. The old monk having retired 
in disgust, or despair, from the world and its pleasures, 
imagines there can be no happiness for him either in 
the present or the future, and he therefore repeats to 
all who pass by the warning that they must not expect 
their present happiness to continue, as they would be 
sure to find their joys would be like his own bygone 
dreams, which, however beautiful they arose on his vis- 
ion in the night, yet faded away in the light of the 
morning. 

The third verse says, " By day its voice is low and 
light," etc. In one chamber the wealthy maiden, the 
frivolous daughter of fashion, has retired to her couch, 
and there she imagines that all the luxuries and pleas- 
ures that wealth can purchase or procure will always be 
hers; but the old clock tells her that her enjoyments 
will be but for a season, and not forever; that they will 
be only on earth, and not in Heaven — while to the poor 
servant girl, who lies in the next chamber and on her 
sleepless couch ponders over her lowly lot, the kind old 
monitor promises that if she fulfill her duty while on 
earth her wearisome toils will soon cease, and that her 
reward will be to dwell in a home of purity and happi- 
ness in the lovely Spirit Land. 

The fourth verse tells us that "Through days of sor- 
row and of mirth," etc. On earth our enjoyments will 
be but for a season, but in Heaven they will endure 
forever. 

The fifth verse says, "In that mansion used to be," 
etc. The stranger is warned that although he is now 
enjoying ease and plenty, yet on the morrow he must 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 85 

encounter toil and privation; yet if he does his duty 
while on earth an eternity of happiness will be his. 

The lovely sixth verse describes the delight of youth 
and love: " There groups of merry children played," 
etc. The ardent youth tells the blooming maiden that 
his passion for her will endure forever — but the lady 
laughingly replies that she does not believe him. He 
then vows that he loves her not only with his heart, but 
also with his soul, and that his affection will endure not 
only in this life but also through all eternity. 

The seventh verse describes how near to each 
other are life and death — the bride of the living, and 
the bride of the dead. " From that chamber clothed 
in white," etc. The happy bride apparel'd in the garb 
of purity comes forth from one chamber; while in the 
other room, also clothed in white, lies one whose joys 
and sorrows in this world are all at rest. To the first 
the old clock sounds its warning voice, to remind her, 
that her present enjoyment is but for a season, and not 
until she also lies upon the couch of death can she ex- 
perience happiness forever. 

The eighth verse tells, how friends " All are scattered 
now and fled," etc. Upon this earth we shall never be 
reunited, but when our eyes are closed in their last 
sleep, and weeping friends lament us as dead, our 
happy eyes have opened upon the joys of Heaven, and 
our ears are ringing with the songs of the seraphs in the 
holy land of love; while with sighs of ecstacy we are 
clasped in the arms of those we had loved and lost; 
once more reunited never again to part. 

The ninth verse explains all : 

" Never here, (on earth) forever there, (in heaven) 
Where all parting, pain, and care, 
And death, and time shall disappear — 
Forever there, but never here! 



1 86 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The horologue of eternity 
Sayeth this incessantly — 

" ' Forever — never! 
Never — forever! ' " 
On earth happiness is but for a season. In Heaven it 
will endure forever. " Deo Gratias" 

THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

Somewhat back from the village street 
Stands the old-fashion'd country-seat: 
Across its antique portico 
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw 
And from its station in the hall 
An ancient timepiece says to all — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

Half-way up the stairs it stands, 
And points, and beckons with its hands, 
From its case of massive oak, 
Like a monk, who, under his cloak, 
Crosses himself, and sighs alas! 
With sorrowful voice, to all who pass— 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

By day its voice is low and light; 
But in the silent dead of night, 
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, 
It echoes along the vacant hall — 
Along the ceiling, along the floor, 
And seems to say at each chamber-door — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 87 

Through days of sorrow and of mirth, 
Through days of death and days of birth, 
Through every swift vicissitude 
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, 
And as if, like God, it all things saw, 
It calmly repeats those words of awe — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

In that mansion used to be 
Free-hearted hospitality: 
His great fires up the chimney roar'd; 
The stranger feasted at his board; 
But like the skeleton at the feast, 
That warning timepiece never ceased — • 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

There groups of merry children play'd, 
There youths and maidens dreaming stray 'd: 
O precious hours! O golden prime, 
And affluence of love and time! 
Even as a miser counts his gold, 
Those hours the ancient timepiece told — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

From that chamber, clothed in white, 
The bride came forth on her wedding-night; 
There, in that silent room below, 
The dead lay in his shroud of snow; 
And, in the hush that follow'd the prayer, 
Was heard the old clock on the stair — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 



>8 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

All are scatter'd now and fled — 
Some are married, some are dead; 
And when I ask, with throbs of pain, 
" Ah! when shall they all meet again? " 
As in the days long since gone by. 
The ancient timepiece makes reply — 
" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

Never here, forever there — 
Where all parting, pain, and care, 
And death, and time shall disappear — 
Forever there, but never here! 
The horologue of Eternity 
Sayeth this incessantly — 

" Forever — never! 
Never — forever! " 

THE BURNING PRAIRIE. 

ALICE CARY. 

The prairie stretched as smooth as a floor, 

As far as the eye could see, 
And the settler sat at his cabin door, 

With his little girl on his knee, 
Striving her letters to repeat, 
And pulling her apron over her feet. 

His face was wrinkled but not old, 

For he bore an upright form, 
And his shirt sleeves back to the elbow rolled 

They showed a brawny arm. 
And near in the grass with toes upturned, 
Was a pair of old shoes, cracked and burned. 

A dog with his head betwixt his paws, 

Lay lazily dozing near, 
Now and then snapping his tar-black jaws 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

At the fly that buzzed in his ear; 
And near was the cow-pen, made of rails, 
And a bench that held two milking pails. 

In the open door an ox-yoke lay, 

The mother's odd redoubt, 
To keep the little one, at her play 

On the floor, from falling out; 
While she swept the hearth with a turkey wing, 
And filled her tea-kettle at the spring. 

The little girl on her father's knee, 

With eyes so bright and blue, 
From A, B, C, to X, Y, Z, 

Had said her lesson through; 
When a wind came over the prairie land, 
And caught the primer out of her hand. 

The watch dog whined, the cattle lowed 

And tossed their horns about, 
The air grew gray as if it snowed, 

" There will be a storm, no doubt," 
So to himself the settler said; 
" But, father, why is the sky so red?" 

The little girl slid off his knee, 

And all of a tremble stood; 
" Good wife," he cried, "come out and see 

The skies are as red as blood." 
" God save us! " cried the settler's wife, 
"The prairie 's a-fire, we must run for life! " 

She caught the baby up, " Come, 

Are ye mad? to your heels, my man; " 

He followed, terror-stricken, dumb, 
And so they ran and ran. 

Close upon them was the snort and swing 

Of buffaloes madly galloping. 



I90 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The wild wind, like a sower, sows 

The ground with sparkles red; 
And the flapping wings of the bats and crows, 

And the ashes overhead, 
And the bellowing deer, and the hissing snake, 
What a swirl of terrible sounds they make. 

No gleam of the river water yet, 

And the flames leap on and on, 
A crash and a fiercer whirl and jet, 

And the settler's house is gone. 
The air grows hot; "This fluttering curl 
Would burn like flax," said the little girl. 

And as the smoke against her drifts, 

. And the lizard slips close by her, 
She tells how the little cow uplifts 
Her speckled face from the fire; 
For she cannot be hindered from looking back 
At the fiery dragon on their track. 

They hear the crackling grass and sedge, 

The flames as they whir and rave, 
On, on! they are close to the water's edge, — 

They are breast deep in the wave; 
And lifting their little one high o'er the tide, 
"We are saved, thank God, we are saved! " they cried. 

THE CREED OF THE BELLS. 

GEORGE W. BUNGAY. 

How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells! 

Each one its creed in music tells, 

In tones that float upon the air, 

As soft as song, as pure as prayer; 

And I will put in simple rhyme 

The language of the golden chime; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I<JI 

My happy heart with rapture swells 
Responsive to the bells, sweet bells. 

" In deeds of love excel! excel! " 
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell; 
" This is the church not built on sands, 
Emblem of one not built with hands; 
Its forms and sacred rites revere, 
Come worship here! come worship here! 
In rituals and faith excel! " 
Chimed out the Episcopalian bell. 

" Oh heed the ancient landmarks well! " 
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell; 
" No progress made by mortal man 
Can change the just eternal plan: 
With God there can be nothing new; 
Ignore the false, embrace the true, 
While all is well! is well! is well! " 
Pealed out the good old Dutch church bell. 

"Ye purifying waters swell!" 
In mellow tones rang out a bell; 
" Though faith alone in Christ can save, 
Man must be plunged beneath the wave, 
To show the world unfaltering faith 
In what the Sacred Scriptures saith: 
Oh, swell, ye rising waters, swell! " 
Pealed out the clear toned Baptist bell. 

" Not faith alone, but works as well, 
Must test the soul! " said a soft bell; 
"Come here and cast aside your load, 
And work your way along the road, 
With faith in God, and faith in man, 
And hope in Christ, where hope began; 
Do well! do well! do well! do well! " 
Rang out the Unitarian bell. 



I92 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

"Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell!" 
In touching tones exclaimed a bell; 
" Life is a boon, to mortals given, 
To fit the soul for bliss in Heaven; 
Do not invoke the avenging rod, 
Come here and learn the way to God; 
Say to the world, Farewell! farewell!" 
Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell. 

"To all, the truth, we tell! we tell!" 
Shouted in ecstasies a bell; 
"Come all ye weary wanderers, see! 
Our Lord has made salvation free, 
Repent, believe, have faith, and then 
Be saved, and praise the Lord, Amen! 
Salvation 's free, we tell! we tell! " 
Shouted the Methodistic bell. 

"In after life there is no hell! " 
In raptures rang a cheerful bell; 
" Look up to Heaven this holy day, 
Where angels wait to lead the way; 
There are no fires, no fiends to blight 
The future life; be just and right. 
No hell! no hell! no hell! no hell! 
Rang out the Universalist bell. 

"The Pilgrim Fathers heeded well 

My cheerful voice," pealed forth a bell; 

" No fetters here to clog the soul; 

No 'arbitrary creeds control 

The free heart and progressive mind, 

That leave the dusty past behind. 

Speed well! speed well! speed well! speed well! 

Pealed out the Independent bell! 

" No pope, no pope, to doom to hell! " 
The Protestant rang out a bell; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION I93 

" Great Luther left his fiery zeal 
Within the hearts that truly feel 
That loyalty to God will be 
The fealty that makes men free, 
No, images where incense fell! " 
Rang out old Martin Luther's bell. 

" All hail, ye saints in Heaven that dwell 
Close by the Cross! " exclaimed a bell; 
" Lean o'er the battlements of bliss 
And deign to bless a world like this; 
Let mortals kneel before this shrine — 
Adore the water and the wine! 
All hail, ye saints, the chorus swell!" 
Chimed in the Roman Catholic bell. 

" Ye workers who have toiled so well, 

To save the race ! " said a sweet bell, 

" With pledge, and badge, and banner, come, 

Each brave heart beating like a drum; 

Be royal men, of noble deeds, 

For love is holier than creeds; 

Drink from the well, the well, the well! " 

In rapture rang the Temperance bell. 

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.* 

MACAULAY. 

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories 
are! 

And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre. 

Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, 

Through thy corn fields green and sunny vines, O pleas- 
ant land of France! 



* Pronounced E-vree. 



194 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the 

waters, 
Again let rapture light the eye of all thy mourning 

daughters. 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold, and stiff, and still are they who would thy walls 

annoy. 
Hurrah ! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance 

of war; 
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry, and King Henry of Navarre! 

Oh! how our hearts were beating, when at the dawn of 

day, 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array; 
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish 

spears ! 
There, rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of 

our land! 
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his 

hand! 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's em- 
purpled flood, 
And good Coligni'sf hoary hair, all dabbled with his 

blood; 
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate 

of war, 
To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 

The king is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant 

crest. 
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; 



fColigni, (pronounced Co-leen-yee } ) a venerable old 
man, was one of the victims in the massacre of St. Bar- 
tholomew. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 95 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern 

and high. 
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing 

to wing, 
Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save our lord 

the King! " 
"And if my standard bearer fall, and fall full well he may, 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, 
Press where you see my white plume shine, amid the 

ranks of war, 
And be your oriflamme J to-day the helmet of Navarre." 

Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled din 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 

culverin! 
The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's 

plain, 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 
Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 

France, 
Charge for the golden lilies, now upon them with the 

lance! 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears 

in- rest, \ 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow- 
white crest; 
And in they burst and on they rushed, while, like a 

guiding star, 
Amidst the thickest carnage, blazed the helmet of 

Navarre. 

Now, God be praised! the day is ours! Mayenne hath 
turned his rein, — 



J Oriflamme, (pronounced or-ree-flam,) the French 
standard. 



196 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

D'Aumales hath cried for quarter; the Flemish count 

is slain, 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay 

gale; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 

cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengence, and all along our 

van, 
" Remember Saint Bartholomew," was passed from man 

to man; 
But out spake gentle Henry, then, " No Frenchman is 

my foe; 
Down, down with every foreigner; but let your brethren 

go." 
Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in 

war, 
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of 

Navarre! 

Ho! maidens of Vienna! Ho! matrons of Lucerne! 
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never 

shall return. 
Ho! Philip, send, for charity, the Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor 

spearmen's souls! 
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms 

be bright! 
Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward 

to-night! 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath 

raised the slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of 

the brave. 
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are! 
And honor to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Na- 
varre. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 97 

THE DIVER. 

SCHILLER. 

14 Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold, 
As to dive to the howling Charybdis * below: 

I cast into the whirlpool a goblet of gold, 
And o'er it already the dark waters flow: 

Whoever to me may the goblet bring, 

Shall have for his guerdon f that gift of his king." 

He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep, 
That rugged and hoary, hung over the verge 

Of the endless and measureless world of the deep, 
Swirled into the maelstrom that maddened the surge. 

" And where is the diver so stout to go — 

I ask ye again, to the deep below? " 

And the knights and the squires that gathered around, 
Stood silent — and fixed on the ocean their eyes; 

They looked on the dismal and savage profound, 

And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize. 

And thrice spoke the monarch — " The cup to win, 

Is there never a wight, who will venture in? ° 

And all as before heard in silence the king — 

Till a youth, with an aspect unfearing but gentle, 
'Mid the tremulous squires, stept out of the ring, 



* One of the two rocks, Scylla and Charydbis, de- 
scribed by Homer as lying near together, between Italy 
and Sicily; both formidable to ships which had to pass 
between them. One contained an immense fig tree, 
under which dwelt Charybdis, who thrice every day 
swallowed down the waters of the sea, and thrice threw 
them up again. 

f Recompense; reward. 



I98 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Unbuckling his girdle and doffing his mantle; 
And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder, 
On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder. 

As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave 
One glance on the gulf of that merciless main; 

Lo! the wave that forever devours the wave, 
Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again; 

And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom, 

Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom. 

And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, 
As when fire is with water commixed and contending; 

And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, 
And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending. 

And it never will rest, nor from travail be free, 

Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea. 

And at last there lay open the desolate realm! 
Through the breakers that whitened the waste of the 

swell, 
Dark — dark yawned a cleft in the midst of the whelm, 

The path to the heart of that fathomless Hell. 
Round and round whirled the waves — deep and deeper 

still driven, 
Like a gorge thro' the mountainous main thunder-riven. 

The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before 
That path through the riven abyss closed again — 

Hark! a shriek from the crowd rang aloft from the 
shore, 
And, behold! he is whirled in the grasp of the main! 

And o'er him the breakers mysteriously rolled, 

And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold. 

O'er the surface grim silence lay dark and profound, I 
But the deep from below murmured hollow and fell; 
And the crowd, as it shuddered, lamented aloud— - 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 1 99 

" Gallant youth — noble heart — fare thee well, fare thee 
well!" 
And still ever deepening that wail as of woe, 
More hollow the gulf sent its howl from below. 

If thou should 'st in those waters thy diadem fling, 
And cry, "Who may find it shall win it, and wear; " 

Gods wot, though the prize were the crown of a king — 
A crown at such hazards were valued too dear. 

For never did lips of the living reveal, 

What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal. 

Oh, many a ship, to that breast grappled fast, 

Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave; 

Again, crashed together, the keel and the mast, 
To be seen, tossed aloft in the glee of the wave- — 

Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer, 

Grows the roar of the gulf, rising nearer and nearer. 

And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, 
As when fire is with water commixed and contending; 

And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, 
And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending. 

And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom, 

Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom. 

And, lo! from the heart of that far floating gloom 

What gleams on the darkness so swan -like and white? 

Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb! — 
They battle — the Man's with the Element's might. 

It is he — it is he! — in his left hand behold 

As a sign — as a joy! — shines the goblet of gold! 

And he breathed deep, and he breathed long, 
And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day. 

They gaze on each other — they shout as they throng — 
"He lives — lo! the ocean has rendered its prey! 

And out of the grave, where the Hell began, 

His valor has rescued the living man!" 



200 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and glee, 
And the goblet his daring has won from the water, 

He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee; 

And the king from her maidens has beckoned his 
daughter, 

And he bade her the wine to his cup-bearer bring, 

And thus spake the Diver — " Long life to the king! 

" Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, 
The air and the sky that to mortals are given! 

May the horror below never more find a voice — 
Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven! 

Never more — never more may he lift from the mirror, 

The Veil which is woven with Night and with Terror! 

" Quick-brightening like lightning — it tore me along 
Down, down, till the gush of a torrent at play, 

In the rocks of its wilderness caught me — and strong 
As the wings of an eagle it whirled me away. 

Vain, vain were my struggles — the circle had won me, 

Round and round in its dance the wild element spun me. 

"And I called on my God, and my God heard my prayer, 
In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath — 

And showed me a crag that rose up from the lair, 
And I clung to it, trembling — and baffled the death! 

And, safe in the perils around me, behold 

On the spikes of the coral the goblet of gold. 

"Below, at the foot of that precipice drear, 

Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless obscure! 

A silence of Horror that slept on the ear, 

*That the eye more appalled might the Horror endure! 

Salamander — snake — dragon — vast reptiles that dwell 

In the deep — coiled about the grim jaws of their Hell. 

" Dark-crawled — glided dark the unspeakable swarms, 
Like masses unshapen, made life hideously — -. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 201 

Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms — 

Here the hammer^fish darkened the dark of the sea — 
And with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion, 
Went the terrible shark — the Hyena of Ocean. 

"There I hung, and the awe gathered icily o'er me, 
So far from the earth where man's help there was none! 

The One Human Thing, with the goblins before me — 
Alone — in a loneness so ghastly — Alone! 

Fathom-deep from man's eye in the speechless profound, 

With the death of the Main and the Monsters around. 

" Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now 
A hundred-limbed creature caught sight of its prey, 

And darted — O God! from the far-flaming bough 
Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way; 

And it seized me, the wave with its wrath and its roar, 

It seized me to save — King, the danger is o'er! " 

On the youth gazed the monarch, and marveled: quoth he, 
4< Bold Diver, the goblet I promised is thine, 

And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee, 

Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine, 

If thou It bring me fresh tidings, and venture again, 

To say what lies hid in the innermost main! " 

Then outspake the daughter in tender emotion, 
" Oh! father, my father, what more can there rest? 

Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean — 

He has served thee as none would, thyself hast confest. 

If nothing can shake thy wild thirst of desire, 

Be your knight's not, at least, put to shame by the squire!" 

Tbe king seized the goblet — he swung it on high, 
And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide; 

" But bring back that goblet again to my eye, 

And I '11 hold thee dearest that rules by my side, 

And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree, 

The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee." 



202 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

In his heart as he listened, there leapt a wild joy — 
And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in 
fire, 

On that bloom, on that blush, gazed, delighted, the boy; 
The maiden she faints at the feet of her sire! 

Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath; 

He resolves! — To the strife with the life and the death! 

They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell; 

Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along! 
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell — 

They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng, 
Rearing up to the cliff — roaring back as before; 
But no wave ever brought the lost youth to the shore. 

THE INQUIRY. 

CHARLES MACKAY. 

Tell me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar, 
Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more? 
Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, 
Where, from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sighed for pity as it answered — " No." 

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, 
Know 'st thou some favored spot, some island far away, 
Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs; 
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies? 
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, 
Stopped for awhile, and sighed to answer — " No." 

And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, 
Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; 
Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, 
Where miserable man might find a happier lot? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a voice, sweet but sad, responded — " No." 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 203 

Tell me, my secret soul; — oh, tell me, Hope and Faith, 
Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death? 
Is there no happy spot, where mortals may be blessed, 
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest? 

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, 
Waved their bright wings, and whispered — << YES, in 

Heaven! " 



THE MAIN-TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE. 

MORRIS. 

Old Ironsides at anchor lay, 

In the harbor of'Mahon; 
A dead calm rested on the bay — 

The waves to sleep had gone; 
When little Hal, the captain's son, 

A lad both brave and good, 
In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, 

And on the main-truck stood! 

A shudder shot through every vein, 

All eyes were turned on high! 
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, 

Between the sea and sky; 
No hold had he above, below; 

Alone he stood in air: 
To that far height none dared to go: 

No aid could reach him there. 

We gazed; — but not a man could speak! 

With horror all aghast, 
In groups with pallid brow and cheek, 

We watched the quivering mast. 
The atmosphere grew thick and hot, 

And of a liquid hue; — 
As riveted unto the spot, 

Stood officers and crew. 



204 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The father came on deck: — he gasped, 

" Oh God! thy will be done! " 
Then suddenly a rifle grasped, 

And aimed it at his son: 
"Jump, far out, boy, into the wave! 

"Jump, or I fire! " he said; 
" That only chance your life can save! 

Jump, jump, boy! " — He obeyed. 

He sunk, — he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — 

And for the ship struck out; 
On board, we hailed the lad beloved, 

With many a manly shout. 
His father drew, in silent joy, 

Those wet arms round his neck — 
Then folded to his heart his boy, 

And fainted on the deck. 

THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET. 

ALBERT G. GREENE. 

O'er a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest 

ray, 
Where, in his last strong agony, a dying warrior lay, — 
The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er 

been bent 
By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had 

spent. 

" They come around me here, and say my days of life 

are o'er; 
That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no 

more; 
They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now 

that I, 
Their own liege lord and master born, that I, — ha! ha! — 

must die. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 2o5 

"And what is death? I've dared him oft, before the 

Paynim spear; 
Think ye he 's entered at my gate, — has coine to seek 

me here? 
I Ve met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight 

was raging hot; — 
I '11 try his might, I '11 brave his power; defy, and fear 

him not. 

" Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the 

culverin; 
Bid each retainer arm with speed; call every vassal in; 
Up with my banner on the wall; the banquet board 

prepare; 
Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor 

there! " 

An hundred hands were busy then: the banquet forth 

was spread, 
And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial 

tread, 
While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted 

wall, 
Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the 

proud old Gothic hall. 

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed re- 
tainers poured, 

On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged 
around the board; 

While at its head, within his dark, carved, oaken chair 
of state, 

Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, 
sate. 

" Fill every beaker up, my men; pour forth the cheering 
wine; 



206 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

There's life and strength in every drop; thanksgiving* 

to the vine! 
Are ye all there, my vassals true? mine eyes are waxing 

dim; 
Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the 

brim. 

"Ye Ye there, but yet I see you not; draw forth each 

trusty sword, 
And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around 

my board; — 
I hear it faintly: — louder yet! What clogs my heavy 

breath? 
Up, all! and shout for Rudiger, * Defiance unto death! ' " 

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a 

deafening cry, 
That made the torches flare around, and shook the 

flags on high. 
"Ho! cravens! do ye fear him? Slaves! traitors! have ye 

flown? 
Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone? 

" But I defy him; let him come!" Down rang the massy 

cup, 
While from the sheath the ready blade came flashing 

half-way up; 
And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling 

on his head, 
There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger 

sat, — dead! 

THE FATE OF VIRGINIA. 

T. B. MACAULAY. 

" Why is the Forum crowded? What means this stir in 

Rome? " 
" Claimed as a slave, a free-born maid is dragged here 

from her home. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 207 

On fair Virginia, Claudius has cast his eye of blight; 
The tyrant's creature, Marcus, asserts an owner's right; 
O, shame on Roman manhood! Was ever plot more 
clear? 

But look! the maiden's father comes! Behold Virginius 

here! " 
Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside,* 
To where the reeking shambles stood piled up with horn 

and hide. 
Hard by, a butcher on a block had laid his whittle down, — 
Virginius caught the whittle up and hid it in his gown. 
And then his eyes grew very dim and his throat began 

to swell, • 
And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, " Farewell, 

sweet child, farewell! 
The house that was the happiest within the Roman walls — 
The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's marble 

halls, 
Now for the brightness of thy smile must have eternal 

gloom, 
And for the music of thy voice the silence of the tomb. 

(t The time is come. The tyrant points his eager hand 

this way; 
See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon 

the prey; 
With all his wit he little deems that, spurned, betrayed, 

bereft, 
Thy father hath, in his despair, one fearful refuge left; 
He little deems that, in this hand, I clutch what still can 

save 



* In order to render the commencement less abrupt, 
six lines of introduction have been added to this extract 
from the fine ballad by Macaulay. 



208 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of 

the slave; 
Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and 

blow, — 
Foul outrage, which thou knowest not, — which thou 

shall never know. 
Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me 

one more kiss; 
And now mine own dear little girl, there is no way but 

this!" 
With that, he lifted high the steel and smote her in the 

side, 
And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob 

she died. 

Then for a little moment, all people held their breath; 
And through the crowded Forum was stillness as of 

death; 
And in another moment brake forth from one and all 
A cry as if the Volscians were coming o'er the wall; 
Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Virginius tot- 
tered nigh, 
And stood before the judgment seat and held the knife 

on high: 
" O, dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain, 
By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us 

twain; 
And e'en as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine, 
Deal you with Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line! " 
So spake the slayer of his child; then where the body lay, 
Pausing, he cast one haggard glance, and turned and 
went his way. 

Then up sprang Appius Claudius: "Stop him, alive or 

dead! 
Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who brings 

his head!" 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 209 

He looked upon his clients, — but none would work his 

will; 
He looked upon his lictors, — but they trembled and 

stood still, 
And as Virginius through the press his way in silence 

cleft, 
Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and left; 
And he hath passed in safety unto his woful home, 
And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what deeds are 

done in Rome. 

NOBODY'S CHILD. 

PHILO H. CHILD. 

Alone, in the dreary, pitiless street, 
With my torn old dress and bare cold feet, 
All day I 've wandered to and fro, 
Hungry and shivering and nowhere to go; 
The night 's coming on in darkness and dread, 
And the chill sleet beating upon my bare head; 
Oh! why does the wind blow upon me so wild? 
Is it because I 'm nobody's child? 

Just over the way there 's a flood of light, 
And warmth and beauty, and all things bright; 
Beautiful children, in robes so fair, 
Are carolling songs in rapture there. 
1 wonder, if they, in their blissful glee, 
Would pity a poor little beggar like me, 
Wandering alone in the merciless street, 
Naked and shivering and nothing to eat. 

Oh! what shall I do when the night comes down 

In its terrible blackness all over the town? 

Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky, 

On the cold hard pavements alone to die? 

When the beautiful children their prayers have said, 



2IO SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed, 
No dear mother ever upon me smiled — 
Why is it, I wonder, that I 'm nobody's child! 

No father, no mother, no sister, not one 
In all the world loves me; e'en the little dogs run 
When I wander too near them; 't is wondrous to see, 
How everything shrinks from a beggar like me! 
Perhaps 'tis a dream; but, sometimes, when I lie, 
Gazing far up in the dark blue sky, 
Watching for hours some large bright star, 
I fancy the beautiful gates are ajar. 

And a host of white-robed, nameless things, 

Come fluttering o'er me in gilded wings; 

A hand that is strangely soft and fair 

Caresses gently my tangled hair, 

And a voice like the carol of some wild bird, 

The sweetest voice that ever was heard — 

Calls me many a dear pet name, 

Till my heart and spirits are all aflame; 

And tells me of such unbounded love, 
And bids me come up to their home above, 
And then, with such pitiful, sad surprise, 
They look at me with their sweet blue eyes, 
And it seems to me out of the dreary night 
I 'm going up to the world of light, 
And away from the hunger and storms so wild— 
I am sure I shall then be somebody's child. 

SPEECH OF BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CAESAR. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my 
cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me 
for mine honor; aud have respect to mine honor, that 
you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and 
awake your senses, that you may be the better judge. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 211 

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no 
less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus 
rose up against Caesar, this is my answer — not that I 
loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. 

Had you rather that Caesar were living, and die all 
slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? 
As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortu- 
nate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but 
as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for 
his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and 
death for his ambition. Who 's here so base, that would 
be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. 
Who 's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If 
any, speak; for him have I offended. Who 's here so 
vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for 
him have I offended. I pause for a reply. 

None! Then none have I offended. I have done no 
more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The ques- 
tion of his death is enrolled in the capitol; his glory 
not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his of- 
fences enforced, for which he suffered death. 

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, 
though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the 
benefit of his dying — a place in the commonwealth; as 
which of you shall not? W T ith this, I depart: that, as I 
slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the 
same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country 
to need my death. 

NO SECTS IN HEAVEN. 

Talking of sects till late one eve, 
Of the various doctrines the saints believe,. 
That night I stood in a troubled dream 
By the side of a darkly flowing stream. ' 



212 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

And a " Churchman " down to the river came; 
When I heard a strange voice call his name, 
"Good father, stop; when you cross this tide, 
You must leave your robes on the other side." 

But the aged father did not mind; 
And his long gown floated out behind, 
As down to the stream his way he took, 
His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book: 

" I 'm bound for heaven; and when I 'm there, 
Shall want my Book of Common Prayer; 
And, though I put on a starry crown, 
I should feel quite lost without my gown." 

Then he fixed his eyes on the shining track, 
But his gown was heavy and held him back, 
And the poor old father tried in vain, 
A single step in the flood to gain. 

I saw him again on the other side, 
But his silk gown floated on the tide; 
And no one asked, in that blissful spot, 
Whether he belonged to the " Church " or not. 

Then down to the river a Quaker strayed; 
His dress of a sober hue was made: 
" My coat and hat must all be gray — 
I cannot go any other way." 

Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin, 
And staidly, solemnly, waded in, 
And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight, 
Over his forehead so cold and white. 

But a strong wind carried away his hat; 
A moment he silently sighed over that; 
And then, as he gazed to the further shore, 
The coat slipped off, and was seen no more. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 21 3 

As he entered heaven his suit of gray 
Went quietly sailing, away, away; 
And none of the angels questioned him 
About the width of his beaver's brim. 

Next came Dr. Watts, with a bundle of psalms 

Tied nicely up in his aged arms, 

And hymns as many, a very wise thing, 

That the people inheaven, u all 'round," might sing. 

But I thought that he heaved an anxious sigh, 
And he saw that the river ran broad and high, 
And looked rather surprised, as one by one 
The psalms and hymns in the wave went down. 

And after him, with his MSS., 

Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness; 

But he cried, " Dear me! what shall I do? 

The water has soaked them through and through." 

And there on the river far and wide, 

Away they went down the swollen tide; 

And the saint, astonished, passed through alone, 

Without his manuscripts, up to the throne. 

Then, gravely walking, two saints by name 
Down to the stream together came; 
But, as they stopped at the river's brink, 
I saw one saint from the other shrink. 

"Sprinkled or plunged? may I ask you, friend, 

How you attained to life's great end? " 

" Thus, with a few drops on my brow." 

" But I have been dipped, as you '11 see me now, 

" And I really think it will hardly do, 
As I 'm 'close communion,' to cross with you; 
You 're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss, 
But you must go that way, and I '11 go this." 



214 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Then straightway plunging with all his might, 
Away to the left — his friend to the right, 
Apart they went from this world of sin, 
But at last together they entered in. 

And now, when the river was rolling on, 

A Presbyterian church went down; 

Of women there seemed an innumerable throng, 

But the men I could count as they passed along. 

And concerning the road, they could ne'er agree, 
The old or the new way, which could it be, 
Nor ever a moment paused to think 
That both would lead to the river's brink. 

But the brethren only seemed to speak: 
Modest the sisters walked and meek, 
And if ever one of them chanced to say 
What troubles she met with on the way, 

How she longed to pass to the other side, 
Nor feared to cross over the swelling tide, 
A voice arose from the brethren then, 
" Let no one speak but the ' holy men;' 

For have ye not heard the words of Paul, 
1 Oh, let the women keep silence all? ' " 
I watched them long in my curious dream, 
Till they stood by the borders of the stream; 

Then, just as I thought, the two ways met, 
But all the brethren were talking yet, 
And would talk on till the heaving tide 
Carried them over side by side — 

Side by side, for the way was one: 
The toilsome journey of life was done; 
And all who in Christ the Saviour died, 
Came out alike on the other side. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 21$ 

No forms or crosses or books had they: 
No gowns of silk or suits of gray; 
No creeds to guide them, or MSS.; 
For all had put on Christ's righteousness. 

THE OCEAN. 

LORD BYRON. 

Oh! that the Deserts were my dwelling place, 
With one fair spirit for my minister, 
That I might all forget the human race, 
And hating no one, love but only her! 
Ye Elements! — in whose ennobling stir 
I feel myself exalted — can ye not 
Accord me such a being? Do I err 
In deeming such inhabit many a spot? 
Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot. 

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society, where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar: 
I love not man the less, but nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before, 
To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depth, with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 



2l6 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

His steps not upon thy paths, — thy fields 
Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 
And shake him from thee, the vile strength he wields 
For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, 
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
And send'st him, shivering, in thy playful spray, 
And howling to his gods, where haply lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
And dashest him again to earth: there let him lay. 

The armaments which thunder-strike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals: 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; 
These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage: their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow — 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, 

Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — 

The image of Eternity — -the throne 

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 2\J 

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy 
I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea 
Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear, 
For I was, as it were, a child of thee, 
And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 

PICTURES OF MEMORY. 

ALICE GARY. 

Among the beautiful pictures 

That hang on memory's wall, 
Is one of a dim old forest, 

That seemeth best of all: 
Not for its gnarled oaks olden, 

Dark with the misletoe; 
Not for the violets golden 

That sprinkle the vale below; 
Not for the milk-white lilies 

That lean from the fragrant hedge, 
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams, 

And stealing their shining edge; 
Not for the vines on the upland 

Where the bright berries be, 
Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip 

It seemeth best to me. 

I once had a little brother, 

With eyes that were dark and deep — 

In the lap of that old dim forest 
He lieth in peace asleep: 



2l8 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Light as the down of the thistle, 

Free as the winds that blow, 
We roved there the beautiful summers, 

The summers of long ago; 
But his feet on the hills grew weary, 

And, one of the autumn eves, 
I made for my little brother 

A bed of the yellow leaves. 

Sweetly his pale arms folded 

My neck in a meek embrace, 
As the light of immortal beauty 

Silently covered his face: 
And when the arrows of sunset 

Lodged in the tree-tops bright, 
He fell, in his saint-like beauty, 

Asleep by the gates of light. 
Therefore, of all the pictures, 

That hang on memory's wall, 
The one of the dim old forest 

Seemeth the best of all. 

PARRHASIUS AND CAPTIVE.* 

WILLIS. 

There stood an unsold captive in the mart, 
A gray-haired and majestical old man, 
Chained to a pillar. It was almost night, 
And the last seller from his place had gone 



* Parrhasius, a painter of Athens, amongst those Olyn- 
thian captives Philip of Macedon brought home to sell, 
bought one very old man; and when he had him at his 
house, put him to death with extreme torture and tor- 
ment, the better by his example to express the pains and 
passions of his Prometheus, whom he was then about 
to paint. 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 210. 

And not a sound was heard but of a dog 
Crunching beneath the stall a refuse bone, 
Or the dull echo from the pavement rung, 
As the faint captive changed his weary feet. 

'T was evening, and the half-descended sun 
Tipped with a golden fire the many domes 
Of Athens, and a yellow atmosphere 
Lay rich and dusky in the shaded street 
Through which the captive gazed. 

The golden light into the painter's room 

Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole 

From the dark pictures radiantly forth, 

And in the soft and dewy atmosphere, 

Like forms and landscapes, magical they lay. 

Parrhasius stood gazing forgetfully, 

Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay 

Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus — 

The vulture at his vitals, and the links 

Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh; 

And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim, 

Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth 

With its far-reaching fancy, and with form 

And color clad them, his fine earnest eye 

Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl 

Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip 

Were like the winged god's breathing from his flight. 

" Bring me the captive now! 
My hands feel skillful, and the shadows lift 
From my waked spirit airily ana swift 

And I could paint the bow 
Upon the bended heavens — round me play 
Colors of such divinity to-day. 

Hal bind him on his back! 
Look! — as Prometheus in my picture here! 



220 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Quick — or he faints! stand with the cordial near! 

Now bend him to the rack! 
Press down the poison'd links into his flesh! 
And tear agape that healing wound afresh! 

So — let him writhe! How long 
Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil now! 
What a fine agony works upon his brow! 

Ha! gray-haired, and so strong! 
How fearfully he stifles that short moan! 
Gods! if I could but paint a dying groan! 

"Pity thee! So I do! 
I pity the dumb victim at the altar — 
But does the rob'd priest for his pity falter? 

I 'd rack thee, though I knew 
A thousand lives were perishing in thine — 
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine? 

Yet there 's a deathless name! 
A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, j 
And like a steadfast planet mount and burn — 

And though its crown of flame 
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone, 
By all the fiery stars! I 'd bind it on! 

Ay — though it bid me rifle 
My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst — 
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first, 

Though it should bid me stifle 
The yearnings in my throat for my sweet child, 
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild — j 

All — I would do it all — 
Sooner than die, like a dull worm to rot — 
Thrust foully into earth to be forgot! 

O heavens — but I appal 
Your heart, old man! forgive — ha! on your lives 
Let him not faint! — rack him till he revives! 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 221 

Vain — vain — give o'er! His eye 
Glazes apace. He does not feel you now — 
Stand back! I '11 paint the death-dew on his brow 

Gods! if he do not die 
But for one moment — one — till I eclipse 
Conception with the scorn of those calm lips! 

Shivering! Hark! he mutters 
Brokenly now — that was a difficult breath — 
Another? Wilt thou never come, oh, Death! 

Look! how his temples nutter! 
Is his heart still? Aha! lift up his head! 
He shudders, gasps, Jove help him! so, he's dead. 

RIENZrS ADDRESS. 

M. R. MITFORD. 

Friends: I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 

The story of our thraldom; — we are slaves! 

The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 

A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam 

Falls on a slave! — not such as, swept along 

By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 

To crimson glory and undying fame; 

But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde 

Of. petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, ■ 

Rich in some dozen paltry villages — 

Strong in some hundred spearsmen — only great 

In that strange spell, a name! Each hour, dark fraud, 

Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cries out against them. But this very day, 

An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 

Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 

The badge of Ursini! because, forsooth, 

He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 

At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor? Men, and wash not 



222 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUf ION 

The stain away in blood? Such shames are common. 

I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you — 

I had a brother once, — a gracious boy, 

Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 

Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look 

Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 

To the beloved disciple. How I loved 

That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, 

Brother at once and son! He left my side, 

A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile 

Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 

The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw 

The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 

For vengence! Rouse, ye Romans! rouse, ye slaves! 

Have ye brave sons? Look, in the next fierce brawl, 

To see them die! Have ye daughters fair? Look 

To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 

Dishonored! and if ye dare call for justice, 

He answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome, 

That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 

Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans! 

Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 

Was greater than a king! — and once again — 

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 

Of either Brutus! — once again I swear, 

The eternal city shall be free! her sons 

v^hall walk with princes! 

THE SEMINOLE'S DEFJANCE. 

G. W. PATTEN. J 

Blaze, with your serried columns! 

I will not bend the knee! 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free. 
I Ve mailed it with the thunder, 

When the tempest muttered low; 



m 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 22 > 

And where it falls, ye well may dread 
The lightning 1 of its blow! 

I Ve scared ye in the city, 

I Ve scalped ye on the plain; 
Go, count your chosen, where they fell 

Beneath my leaden rain! 
I scorn your proffered treaty! 

The pale-face I defy! 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, 

And blood my battle-cry! 

Some strike for hope of booty, 

Some to defend their all, — 
I battle for the joy I have 

To see the white man fall; 
I love, among the wounded, 

To hear his dying moan, 
And catch, while chanting at his side/ 

The music of his groan. 

Ye Ve trailed me through the forest, 

Ye Ve tracked me o'er the stream; 
And struggling through the everglades, 

Your bristling bayonets gleam; 
But I stand as should the warrior, 

With his rifle and his spear; 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, 

And warns ye — Come not here! 

I loathe ^e in my bosom, 

I scorn ye with mine eye, 
And 1 11 taunt ye with my latest breath, 

And fight ye till I die! 
I ne'er will ask ye quarter, 

And I ne'er will be your slave; 
But -I 31 swim the sea of slaughter 

Till I sink beneath- its wave! 



224 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 

H. \V. LONGFELLOW. 
It was the schooner Hesperus, 

Had sailed the wintry sea; 
And the skipper had taken his little daughter, 

To bear him company. 

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, 

Her cheeks like the dawn of day, 
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds 

That ope in the month of May. 

The skipper he stood beside the helm, 

His pipe was in his mouth; 
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 

The smoke, now west, now south. 

Then up and spake an old sailor 

Had sailed the Spanish Main, 
" I pray thee, put into yonder port, 

For I fear a hurricane. 

11 Last night the moon had a golden ring, 

And to-night no moon we see." 
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, 

And a scornful laugh laughed he. 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the north-east; 
The snow fell hissing in the brine, 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 

The vessel in its strength; 
She shuddered and paused like a frighted steed, 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

" Come hither, come hither, my little daughter, 
And do not tremble so; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 225 

For I can weather the roughest gale 
That ever wind did blow." 

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat, 

Against the stinging blast; 
He cut a rope from a broken spar 

And bound her to the mast. 

" O father, I hear the church bells ring; 

O, say, what may it be? " 
" 'T is a fog-bell, on a rock -bound coast; 

And he steered for the open sea. 

" O father, I hear the sound of guns; 

O, say, what may it be? " 
" Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea." 

"O, father, I see a 'gleaming light; 

O, say, what may it be? " 
But the father answered never a word: 

A frozen corpse was he. 

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 

With his face turned to the skies, 
The lantern gleamed, through the gleaming snow, 

On his fixed and glassy eyes. 

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 

That saved she might be; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 

On the Lake of Galilee. 

And fast through the midnight, dark and drear, 
Through the whistling sleet and snow, 

Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept 
Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.* 



* A reef of rocks on the northern coast of Massachu- 
setts, between Manchester and Gloucester. 



226 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Aud ever, the fitful gusts between, 

A sound came from the land; 
It was the sound of the trampling surf, 

On the rocks and the hard sea sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows; 

She drifted a dreary wreck; 
And a whooping billow swept the crew, 

Like icicles, from her deck. 

- She struck where the white and fleecy waves 
Looked soft as carded wool; 
But the cruel rocks they gored her side 
Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 

With the masts, went by the board; 
Like a vessel of glass she stove and sank; 

Ho! Ho! the breakers roared, 
. • • • . • » 

At daybreak, on the bleak sea beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast 
To see the form of a maiden fair 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 

VULTURE AND INFANT. 

I Ve been among the mighty Alps, and wandered thro* 

their vales, 
And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal 

tales, 
As round the cotters* blazing hearth, when their daily 

work was o'er, 
They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were 

heard of more. 
And there, I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear. 
A tale to rend a mortal heart,- which mothers might not 

hear; 



SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 227 

The tears were standing in his eye, his voice was trem- 
ulous; 
But wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus: 

" It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture 

dwells, 
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells, 
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock. 
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim, from the flock, 

" One cloudless Sabbath summer morn the sun was ris- 
ing high, 

When, from my children on the green, I heard a fearful 
cry, 

As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and 
pain, 

A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again. 

" I hurried out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with 
fright, 

The children never ceased to shriek; and from my fren- 
zied sight, 

I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care, 

But something caught my searching eye slow sailing 
thro' the air. 

"Oh! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye, 
His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to descry; 
And know, with agonizing heart, and with a maniac rave, 
That earthly power could not avail that innocent to save! 

" My infant stretched his hands imploringly to me, 
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to 

get free: 
At intervals I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked and 

screamed! 
Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he seemed. 



228 SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

The vulture napped his sail-like wings, though heavily 

he flew; 
A mote upon the sun's broad face, he seemed unto my 

view; 
But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would 

alight, — 
'T was only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite. 

" All search was vain, and years had passed, that child 

was ne'er forgot; 
When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot, 
From thence, upon a rugged crag — the chamoise never 

reached, 
He saw an infant's fleshless bones the elements had 

bleached! 

" I clambered up that rugged cliff — I could not stay away 
I knew they were my infant's bones thus hastening to 

decay; 
A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many 

a shred: 
The crimson cap he wore that morn was still upon his 

head." 

That dreary spot is pointed out to travellers, passing by, 
Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a 

sigh; 
And as I journeyed, the next morn, along my sunny way, 
The precipice was shown to me, whereon the infant lay. 



CONTENTS 



Introduction 3 

SIMPLIFIED ELOCUTION 

Vocal Gymnastics — 

Articulation 17 

Breath 12 

Breathing, Exercises in Pitch and Form of . . 23 

Breath, Organs of 9 

Delivery 20 

Elocution, Rules of 17 

Elocution, Simplified 11 

Emphasis 20 

Emphasis, Exercises in Inflection and .... 48 

Inflection, Exercises in Emphasis and .... 48 

Modulation . 18 

Passions, The 22 

t Pitch 13 

Pitch and Form of Breathing, Exercises in . . 23 

Sound 13 

Sound, Organs of . . 10 

Speech, Organs of 10 

Stress 21 

Voice, The Speaking . 15 

Whisper . 16 

Word Painting, Exercises for 47 

Physical Gymnastics — 

Arms, Combined Motions of Hands and ... 38 

Arms, Position of" 33 

[ Arms, Significant Gestures of the 42 



II CONTENTS 

Body 40 

Body, Significant Gestures of the 42 

Eyes, Direction of the 41 

Eyes, Significant Gestures of the 41 

Eyes, The 40 

Face, Significant Gestures of the 41 

Feet Positions 31 

Fingers, Disposition of 35 

Gesture 31 

Gestures, Complex Significant 43 

Gestures, Significant 41 

Hand, Posture and Motions of 34 

Hands, Combined Disposition of Both .... 36 

Hands, Combined Motions of Arms and ... 3$ 

Hands, Disposition of, Upon the Body .... yj 

Head, Posiures and Motions of •. 41 

Head, Significant Gestures of 41 

Head, The 40 

Iambs, Significant Gestures of the Lower ... 42 

Palm, Manner of Presenting the 36 

Shoulders, The ' . . 40 

SELECTED RECITATIONS 

Adventure with a Lion .... Philip Lawrence 53 

After the Battle 61 

Analysis of Poe s Raven . . . Philip Lawrence 105 

Analysis of The Old Clock on the Stairs Lawrence 183 

Angels of Buena Vista, The . . John G. Whlltler 10 1 

Antony's Address to the Roman s . . Shakespeare 48 

Baron's Last Banquet, The . . Albert G. Greene 204 

Bay Billy Frank H. Cass aw ay 55 

Bernardo del Carpio ...... Mrs, Hemans 76 

Bells, The Edgar Allen Poe 1x5 

Bridge of Sighs Thomas Hood 80 

Blacksmith's Story, The Frank Olive 73 

Burning Prairie, The Alice Cary 188 



CONTENTS' III 

Battle of Ivry, The 71 B. Macaulay 193 

Cataline's Defiance . George Croly 59 

Charge of Pickett's Division , , William Mc Michael 

Charge of the Light Brigade , , Alfred Te7i7iyson 92 

Clarence's Dream . . . . , . . Shakespeare 71 

Creed of the Bells, The . . . George W, Bungay 19c 

Curse of Regulus, The 158 

Damon and Pythias William Beters 68 

Diver, The Schiller 197 

Dream of Eugene Aram, The . . . ' Thomas Hood 1 5 1 

Drifting T. Buchanan Read 63 

Elegy Written in. a Country Churchyard Thos. Gray 88 

Excelsior \ . H. W. Longfellow 118 

Engineers Story, The . 129 

Famine, The H, W. Longfellow 120 

Fate of Virginia, The ..... T. B. Macaulay 206 

Fireman, The . Robert T: Conrad 181 

Fitz James and Roderick Dhu. . Sir Walter Scott 96 

Gambler's Wife . , . Coates 125 

Independence Bell 13 2 

Inquiry, The Charles Mackay 202 

Iron Hearts Better than Iron Ships Bhilip Lawre7ice 94 

Lines on a Skeleton 134 

Little Jim 141 

Lochinvar's Ride . . . . . . Sir Walter Scott 165 

Maclaine's Child ...... Charles Mackay 138 

Main Truck, or A Leap for Life, The . . Morris 203 

Marco Bozzaris Fitz Greene Halleck 143 

Melnotte's Description of LakeComo BulwerLytton 28 

Mercutio's Queen Mab Speech . . Shakespeare 27 

Morning Hymn to Mount Blanc . . . Coleridge 149 

Nobody's Child ........ Philo H. Child 209 

No Sects in Heaven 211 

Ocean, The Lord Byron 2 1 5 

Old Clock on the Stairs, The . H.W.Longfellow 186 

On Being Found Guilty of Treason Robert Emmett 8$ 



IV CONTENTS 

Over the River N. A. W. Priest 180 

Parrhasius and Captive Willis 218 

Paul Revere's Ride H.W.Longfellow 170 

Phantom Ship, The 145 

Pictures of Memory Alice Cary 217 

Portia's Speech on Mercy Shakespeare 52 

Raven, The Edgar Allen Poe 109 

Richelieu and France Bulwer Lytton 100 

Ride from Ghent to Aix, The .... Browning 168 

Rienzi's Address M. R. Mitford 221 

Sandalphon H. W. Longfellow 166 

Seminole's Defiance, The .... G. W. Patten 222 

Shamus O'Brien Sheridan Lefanor 174 

Sheridan's Ride T. Buchanan Read 163 

Softly Murmur Philip Lawrence 68 

Spartacus to the Gladiators at Capua Elijah Kellogg 135 

Speech of Brutus on Death of Caesar Shakespeare 210 

Speech of Cardinal Wolsey . . . . Shakespeare 147 

Speech of Patrick Henry 126 

Sunbeams and Shadows 160 

Thanatopsis Willia?n Cullen Bryant 28 

Vulture and Infant 226 

Wreck of the Hesperus, The . . H. W.Longfellow 224 



